One Times Two is Two
by Sky the wolfdog9
Summary: Ah Japan, we love you and your tacky inventions, but now we have to deal with two Englands because of that...USUK FrUK UKUK
1. Chapter 1

** Hm, I just had to write this and I don't even have a damn outline for this thing…Oh well, I'll get one organized for it during school. Enjoy ;)**

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America had seen a lot of things in his lifetime—he'd witnessed Korea being split in two, he'd seen the first three-dimensional handheld gaming system thanks to Japan and he'd seen some things he'd rather forget—most of them having at least something to do with France. But never had he seen such a cool machine Japan was presenting to him at the moment. Japan had made some pretty trippy things, and so far, had yet to disappoint.

The machine looked very simple for what it was capable of. He probably couldn't even call it a machine, but more of a gun. It looked like a regular handgun and if America didn't know better, he would've thought that it was one. To make things even cooler, it was a cloning machine…thing. He knew they'd been tinkering with the idea of cloning for a while now, but he never expected for Japan to figure it out so quickly.

America inspected the gun look-alike, turning it around and around in his hands, taking in every single visual detail possible. He then aimed it and began pretending that he was shooting at a target, making his own sound-effects. He did that for a while and Japan was obviously getting anxious with how America was handling such a contraption.

"Ah, America, I don't think you should do that…" Japan warned, looking as if he wanted to take the invention away from America, yet too nervous to do so. America grinned and pointed the muzzle of the gun at the floor, taking a lazy position, one hand on his hip and a large, confident grin stretching at his lips.

"Don't worry Japan, I'm completely safe with guns. Plus, this thing's super cool. Thanks for making things interesting again, I mean, it's so boring here, I'm glad you made this, we could have some serious fun with it," Alfred grinned and pointed the gun at a potted plant before pulling the trigger. Japan jumped at the noise produced from his invention—it sounded exactly like a handgun too, mind you. The projectile it shot looked nothing close to a bullet either—Instead of a bullet, it was a bright yellow ball of light that moved just slower than one, about the size of a Ping-Pong ball.

When the ball of light made contact with the plant in less than a second, it flashed and a bright yellow sphere materialized before shrinking to reveal that another plant had sprouted right next to the original one. It looked exactly the same too.

America grinned and straightened up, twirling the gun in between in fingers in a fancy maneuver before slapping it against his hip, pretending to be a cowboy in the cinema who had just finished killing his foe in a high-noon shootout. "That was so cool," he grinned at Japan who was staring suspiciously at the now cloned plant. "How did you figure it out? Jeez, I think we've been fretting over it for years," America continued.

"That information is…classified," Japan answered and Alfred guffawed.

"Ah, I haven't heard those words in a while," Alfred finally remarked once his laughter died down. Japan smiled, though remained silent, not having anything to say to the American. "Does it work on animals? It seemed just fine on the plant, so I'm sure it'd be pretty kick ass for it to work on animals," Alfred grinned, resuming with his role playing.

"We've managed to successfully clone a few dogs, cats and even horses," Japan answered. "That information is not strictly classified, but please refrain from telling any humans," he continued as America continued pointing the gun in random directions, his non-dominant eye closed.

"How 'bout humans?" he asked as he turned in another random direction.

"I'd never ask my people to risk that—we _did_ have some complications America," Japan shook his head, his voice serious and firm. America stopped his imaginary mission and looked at Japan.

"Uh…is it…is there like, bad side-effects or something?" he asked, slightly nervous with the change in the mood. "Well—sorry, you don't know that ha, ha…" America itched at the back of his head before looking down at the gun in his hand—it now looked very intimidating.

"Well, with what we've seen with the animals we've tested, there are some that will experience personality changes; we once had a very friendly Shiba Inu be tested and after the test, one was careless and the other was seriously aggressive. We had…we had to euthanize the aggressive one," Japan's gaze fell to the plant that had been cloned. "The other one disappeared suddenly and we soon found out it got hit by a car."

"Uh…sorry for intruding," America now felt horrible for asking. "Hey, can I still show this to Canada? I'm sure he'll think it's pretty cool!" America continued in an attempt to enlighten the mood. Japan looked hesitant in letting America run around with his invention, but nodded his head in approval.

"Just please be very careful with it," he advised, handing the case the gun was supposed to be carried in to America. America grinned, thanked Japan and placed the gun carefully into the case before closing it and flipping the small latches that kept the case closed. "If something comes up, please come to me first too," Japan continued, his voice a tad morbid.

"Sure," America edged away from Japan, the gloomy mood that hung around the personification of Japan was starting to scare America a little. "I'll bring it back soon, don't worry about it," he grinned and left. Japan sighed, shoulders slumping as he stared at the spot America was standing in just a moment ago. He knew that this was a horrible idea and he had just released something horrible to the world—America with a cloning gun. Just realizing his mistake, Japan went after America in hopes of catching the young nation before something happened.

America walked briskly down the hallway of the hotel they had booked rooms in. The world conference was being held in Tokyo Japan (which was probably why Japan had let America see his new invention). As he made his way down the hallway, he was given strange looks for his overenthusiastic expression along with the unfamiliar briefcase gripped tightly in his right hand, swinging back and forth with his arm—overenthusiastic meaning more enthusiastic than normal.

Italy greeted him merrily as he passed by and America returned the greeting in shaky Italian. Germany sent him a strange look, eyeing the case warily before resuming with his task. France tried to get his attention, but America dutifully ignored him, knowing that it probably wasn't anything good giving that it was France. The only people that seemed to listen to France were Canada and for some reason, England, but that was on an argumentative level.

He finally made it to the room that housed Canada for the brief amount of time they'd spend in Tokyo and he knocked on the door excitedly, yelling for Canada to answer. It took him a moment to figure out that it was Canada's forehead he was knocking on, the quiet nation that resided just above his telling him to stop and that his head was starting to hurt.

"Oh! Sorry Canada, didn't notice you there," America grinned widely, a dark look crossing over the other's face briefly before disappearing as fast as it made itself present.

"What is it America?"

"Check out this kick ass cloning gun Japan just invented!" America unlatched the case and opened it, extracting the weapon as he entered Canada's hotel room, uninvited. "Isn't it cool?" his grin never faltered.

"America, are you sure it's not just a regular handgun?" Canada asked, taking the gun and inspecting it closely. America rolled his eyes and snatched the item from Canada's hands, aiming it at the Bonsai tree growing on the windowsill of Canada's hotel room.

"That's what I thought it was at first too. I thought Japan was just crazy when he showed me this, but watch," he pulled the trigger and Canada jumped at the loud noise. After the all of the bright yellow lights, Canada was now looking at two identical Bonsai trees.

"…America don't shoot that here! They'll think someone actually has a gun here and we'll have the police on us!" Canada wailed, his voice not as loud as he wished for it to be as he grabbed at the gun. America, with his quick reflexes contrary to popular belief, pulled it out of Canada's reach and soon the two were wrestling for the gun, America obviously overpowering the other and the trigger being pulled a few times. Only living things were cloned fortunately, so the bonsai tree ended up being copied a few more times over.

The two were rolling around on the ground, Canada mildly yelling at America to hand the gun over while America refused, telling him that he promised Japan that he wouldn't let anyone else touch it. It was a lie, but it was the only thing he could come up with at the moment.

Too bad someone opened the door to check on them and America just happened to pull the trigger again in the midst of the struggle, the gun aimed at whoever had come to check on the two.

"Alfred you just shot someone! Did Japan say anything about cloning people?" Canada panicked, using America's human name to get his attention since his toned down yelling wouldn't. America continued to struggle a bit with Canada, still yelling about promising Japan something when he finally processed what Canada had just said. He blinked once, twice and three times before looking over his shoulder, the gun still pointed at whoever had been shot by it.

America wanted to laugh and panic at the same time. He wanted to laugh because of the deer-in-headlights look on one of the Englands' faces, but wanted to panic because there were two Englands. One was staring blankly at them and another looked just about ready to faint since the cloning device was pretty convincing.

"Uh…I can explain…" America finally let Canada take the gun from his hands. Damn, he couldn't tell the difference between the two Englands now except for their expressions. Well, that and that one strand of hair that stuck up from literally the top of the scared Englands head—an ahoge if you wanted to be specific. "Canada…what do we do…?"

"I don't know America," Canada answered quietly as he stuffed the gun back into its case and closing it, flipping the latches down which locked the case shut. He then looked at the two Englands warily, a worried, bewildered and slightly frightened expression on his face. England had been cloned, but he wasn't acting like well…England. "America I'm kind of worried…"

France huffed, crossing his arms moodily. America had just ignored him when he tried to tell him something interesting! Stupid American. France was about to go back to his hotel room on the fifth floor when a gunshot rang through the hotel walls, effectively making France jump and yelp. There were no more noises and France pondered over going to check it out or going back to his room. He was about to go back when a few more gunshots exploded, this time more frequent.—and they were coming from Canada's room.

Cursing to himself in French, France turned on his heel and ran towards Canada's hotel room. Nations couldn't be killed unless something happened to the actual country, but that didn't save them from the physical pain. Well…Prussia still bewildered them, but that was beside the point. He swore again when the gunshots ended, though was slightly relieved as well. He rounded a corner and another corner before bumping into something.

America would've laughed at how comically France half-tackled one of the Englands, but he was still horribly confused and slightly panicked at the moment, so he didn't do so. The England that was staring blankly at the two North American countries was now staring at France who was lying on top of the England with the ahoge, his face turning a dark shade of red.

"F-France, could you please get off of me?" his voice was almost as quiet as Canada's and a note higher than it normally was. He stuttered too, and that surprised all of the other nations at the scene, excluding the apathetic England.

"France, get off of him," the England that was still standing sighed, his voice bored. Again, America was torn in between being amused and still horrified at the expression France had adopted. The Frenchman looked like Christmas had come early, yet looked like he had just been told that Canada had died. America wanted to laugh at how red the England under France had gotten too.

France finally noticed that he was lying on top of England and got off, helping him up as well, grinning mentally at the flustered expression the England he was helping up was sporting. He then glanced at the second England that still stood at the doorway, seeming unaffected by what was going on around him.

"Ah, what were those gunshots I heard by the way?" France asked, glancing at America and Canada, searching the two for any signs of bleeding. So far, there was nothing on them. He then noticed the five bonsai trees sitting, cramped, at the windowsill. Huh, he thought that Canada's room only had one. "And why are there two Englands?" France added, motioning to the two Englands standing on each side of him.

"Oh! Japan made this kick ass cloning gun thing and I thought it'd be cool to show Canada and he thought that it was just a regular gun, so I had to prove him wrong and shot the plant and he freaked out because it sounded like a real gun and he worried about someone thinking that we actually had a real gun, which this is not, and we were fighting over it and that explains the multiple shots you hear along with the five bonsai trees over there and then England walked in probably wondering what was going on and I just happened to pull the trigger and…clone…him…" America took a few deep breaths, grinning in a cheesy way after catching his breath.

"That's basically everything," Canada concluded. France cocked an eyebrow at America as if asking 'you're a dumbass you know that?' before glancing at the two Englands. "Uh…I think we should report to Japan…" Canada added, eyeing the case that held the cloning gun as he twiddled his index fingers.

"B-but he'll…he'll have a heart attack!" America wailed. "He's old enough, let's not strain his poor old heart," America continued; now obviously making up excuses. He hoped Japan wasn't scary when angered. He also hoped that Japan wouldn't be angry at him.

"A-a heart attack? We can't do that…" the England with the ahoge whimpered, edging away from France, obviously uncomfortable with the Frenchman invading his personal space. "H-hey, we should probably tell someone else…"

"England? What are you—don't encourage America! Plus, we should go to Japan anyways," Canada worried, the England he was talking to shying away from the other shy nation. He now had competition. "Come on guys, we should go tell Japan—America, did Japan tell you anything about cloning humans or nations?" he then asked as the five of them started walking down the hallway, France having grabbed the bored Englands wrist, dragging him along giving that he gave no sign of following the group.

"Uh…all he said that that the animals they tested showed signs of having their personalities changed," America answered as he was shoved into the elevator along with one of the Englands. "Whoa, what are you doing? Aren't you coming too?" he yelled as the doors began sliding shut.

"Think things over on the way down!" France replied with a grin, him, the other England and Canada going down the stairs. America pounded at the now closed doors, yelling about how he didn't understand them at all. He didn't pound on them hard enough to damage them though, for he'd learned the hard way to not damage property of other countries with his impossible strength.

"Gah! Those two are just…ugh!" America sat down in the corner of the elevator, glancing at the multiple buttons that were on the wall of the elevator just above his head. Reaching up, he pressed the button that brought them down to the first floor. "I'm serious; they just shove me in here for not _good_ reason. They're just probably trying to get rid of me…damn, Canada has the gun!" America continued to stress to himself while England remained silent, sitting in the opposite corner.

He then looked over at England, wondering which one he'd been stuck with—turns out he got the one with the ahoge. He was nervously glancing around the small boxed in space he was in, looking afraid to move if America continued to stare at him. And that blush paired with those huge green eyes was so adorable…

"So uh…I guess I shouldn't call you England since it doesn't really fit you anymore…and I guess you won't kill me for calling you Artie anymore…though I haven't called you that in a while…okay!" America clapped his hands together, making England jump. "It's decided, you're name's Artie and we'll call the other England Art since it's less…cutesy…" Alfred grinned at 'Artie' and received a blink of those large green eyes.

America scrambled to his feet and helped Artie up to his own when the elevators doors slid open, a quiet 'ding' making itself known. The two left and America soon figured out that Canada, France and Art had left without them.

"Damn it! I don't even have a car," America whined, slumping down in defeat. He swore that he felt rain falling on his head from a tiny raincloud hanging over him. It was likely his imagination, but it felt real. People passed him, sending the sulking American strange looks as they entered or exited the hotel.

Once he finished being rained on in his own little world, America ran to the curb and hailed a taxi, Artie right behind him, peeking over his shoulder curiously.

"Where are we going?" America at first had thought that he had imagined the voice, but soon realized that it was Artie talking to him—he sounded so much like Canada now. He turned his head to see his partner smiling shyly at him, hands behind his back. Oh God he was cute. But he kind of missed the England that would yell at him and hate on his culture already…But then again, America still really liked this one too…He couldn't make up his mind.

"We're going to talk with Japan," America answered; when had his voice sounded so sweet? Or did he do that without knowing it? "Err…we gotta figure something out," America added as they stepped into the taxi. Did England know he had been cloned?

One good thing was that he knew Japanese since he hung out with Japan so much because if not, he would've been completely at a dead end by now. So with some near fluent Japanese, America requested that they be taken to Japan's house, addressing him by Honda Kiku. Everyone in Japan knew Honda Kiku, but the funny thing was that they didn't know he was the personification of Japan. Same went with America and every other country that existed. Almost every single one of their citizens knew them as their full human name, but not the fact that they were personifications of their countries.

When they got to Japan's home, America gave the driver the amount of yen he needed to pay before strolling over to the small Japanese home. Grabbing Artie's wrist (and not missing how his face exploded red), America drug the other blond with him to the house.

"Japan! We've got a problem!" America announced his arrival as loudly as possible, going as far as slamming the door open, skipping the traditional take your shoes off thing and going right in. As he entered, he was met by four pairs of eyes. Japan looked peeved, which was a first, Canada looked worried, Francis looked amused in a sly way and Art looked apathetic, not a surprise, though something in his eyes flashed at the sight of America grasping Artie's wrist so delicately.

"Yes, I can already see that," Japan's calm voice betrayed the irritation dancing in his eyes. America was beginning to get intimidated by the look he was receiving. For once, he could slightly read the atmosphere. "Now sit down, we'll have to discuss this a bit," Japan continued.

America sat down as far away from the Japanese male as he could, Artie seating himself next to America. "Oh! Hey guys, I came up with names for these two," America grinned in an attempt to dissolve the awkward silence that had settles itself in between the group, pulling Artie into a one-armed hug as he spoke.

"Ah, leave it to you to do such a thing…sure America, you can tell us," Francis sighed, though his grin never left.

"Well!" America started loudly, making Artie jump from the volume of his voice. "We can call this guy," America pat Artie on top of his head, making the other jump once more at the sudden contact. Why wouldn't France stop smiling at him? Pervert. "Artie, and that one," he then pointed at Art who was sending a lightly jealous look towards the two. "Art. Get it? This one's Artie because he's all…uh…I don't know the word and he's Art because he's more…uh…I don't know the word either, but it's less…cutesy…" America's grin never left along with France's. "Dude, why do you keep smiling at me like that?"

"Oh, just having some nice mental images," Francis replied with a wave of the hand. America shuddered and broke his eye contact with the Frenchman. Whether the mental image included France himself was something America definitely didn't want to think about. "But other than that, I think the names fit them perfectly," Francis continued.

"See? Aren't I amazing?" America grinned, though more at the wall behind France more than the actual country himself. "So Japan, you know how to reverse it?" America then glanced at Japan. He knew they should get England back to normal, but with his current situation, he was starting to not want to change England back. These two were much nicer. Much, much nicer. Especially Artie. Damn, he was committing favoritism.

"Uh…that's our problem America. Unfortunately, I don't have any idea how to…what's the word…unclone?" Japan shook his head in slight defeat. "All I'm saying is that I'm going to have to have my scientists work on that and even then, it could take a long time. Another problem is what we are going to do about the meeting tomorrow?" Japan continued.

"Skip it for some McDonald's! You do have McDonald's here right Japan? Never bothered looking for one whenever I was here…Sorry 'bout that Japan! I'll explore your city more today!"

"You're strange America you know that?" Canada shyly smiled fondly at America who grinned his megawatt smile back at him.

"Thank you very much Canadia!" he piped, patting his chest. Canada couldn't tell if America was joking or actually had messed up his country name, but he didn't correct the other. Canada had gotten used to it anyways. "So guys, let's just go to the meeting tomorrow and say that Iggy's been split in two! It _is_ the truth," America said matter-of-factly, changing his opinion on what to do at the conference tomorrow.

"Then can we tell everyone that it's all your fault too?" France grinned. "That's also the truth."

"B-but it was an accident I swear! Plus, Canada helped with having this happen, so can't we blame him too?" America whined, pointing an accusing finger at Canada who sent America a sad and betrayed look. France just blankly stared at America.

"It wasn't my fault America…" Canada hugged his knees to his chest tighter. "Can't we just tell them what happened and explain the personality thing?" he continued. Kiku agreed with the Canadian and soon, France agreed as well, adding that they should still point out that it was America's fault.

After all of that, a long period of silence settled itself in between the group of nations. "Hey guys, anyone want some ice cream?" America decided to ask. "I do, hey Japan, you got any ice cream parlors around here?" he continued, turning to look at Japan with a hopeful grin stretching his lips. Japan looked a bit confused at the sudden change in subject, but then again, it was America.

"Uh, I know I have a few around here, but I'm not sure you'd like it…our ice cream isn't as sweet as yours," the island country answered, looking around the room at the nations residing in his living room, suddenly realizing how small it was.

"Naw, that's totally fine, c'mon Canada, let's go get some ice cream!" America stood and drug Canada off by his wrist. The northern country had complained, though it was obvious America would consider none of it. Once he had set his sights on something, he got it. Art and Artie, who was slightly enthusiastic about the concept of having some ice cream, followed the two North American countries—not too far behind.

"America is such a troublesome guy," France finally brought up a few minutes after the four left Japan's abode. Japan smiled softly at what France had said and placed his hands in his lap, not having anything to do now except for ask his scientists to figure out a plan.

"Yeah, I think we've all known that for a while now," he remarked. The two sat in silence before France stood up, excusing himself from Japan's presence and left as well.

XXX

"Ow! America, that hurts, let me go!" Canada whined whilst attempting to tug his wrist from America's death grip on it. His voice was obviously drowned out by the city noises of busy midday Tokyo. "I promise I won't run away, just please let go, I'm losing circulation in my hand," Canada continued, wiggling his fingers, though not fully feeling them. America finally let him go and began ranting about how Japan needed to make his candy and ice cream sweeter.

On their way to any ice cream parlor they came across, America and Canada conversed about nothing important in particular. They did earn a few strange looks though since they had two identical people with the same clothing on following them a pace or two behind.

"Say, Artie, which kind of ice cream do you like?" America grinned, glancing over his shoulder at the two Englands following them.

"Who, me?" Art pointed a finger at himself. America could barely see the confusion in Art's eyes, but he vaguely registered it.

"No, no, you're Art, he's Artie," America pointed at Art and then at Artie as he corrected the earlier.

"Strawberry?" Artie half remarked, half asked, a shy smile on his lips along with a confused glint in his large green eyes as he tilted his head to the side slightly. He was a tad off topic though it still related with the earlier question America had directed towards him.

"Hah, same, though I like strawberry _with_ chocolate, it's the best thing in the whole world," America grinned, flashing the two England's a toothy smile. He had never been able to talk about ice cream in a civilized way with England up until now. It still felt like he was talking with a completely different person though, giving that the personality changes made it seem like that. "What about you two? I know you like plain vanilla, but do you have anything else you like Canadia?" America directed his attention to the other two nations following him.

"Just vanilla America…"

"But I swear I saw you pouring maple syrup on you ice cream one day," America cocked an eyebrow, tapping his pocket with his index finger.

"I'm not getting any," Art answered, staring at the pavement below America's feet, hands in his pockets.

"Whaat? No ice cream for you? Jeez man, you're boring," America grinned, slowing down to ruffle the reserved England's hair. Art simply let him do so before straightening his hair back out the best he could as America continued his talk about ice cream. "Oh! I see one, let's go!" America piped, grabbing ahold of Canada's wrist and dragging the poor boy off with him. Artie bound after them, that shy smile still on his face while Art casually entered the ice cream parlor after them.

They once again received strange looks from some customers inside of the parlor, but they weren't questioned, most of them likely assuming that the two Englands' were twins.

Canada and Artie both got their own ice cream cones while America purchased four, already halfway through the first one by the time he had finished counting the yen in his wallet and handing it over to the cashier who looked slightly dazed at how America could plow through half of a large ice cream cone in less than a minute. Obviously the portion size differed in between America and Japan, so that helped America finish his dairy treat quicker.

The group sat down outside to finish the treat America had offered them; having paid for it all himself. Canada and America had argued lightly over who would pay for the ice cream, but America eventually won obviously. Artie happily ate his ice cream next to America, watching the two North American countries interact.

After that, they had gone off to the heart of Tokyo to shop and sightsee even though they've been to the capital of Japan multiple times. America obviously went shopping for horror movies and the latest video games, though he was infatuated enough with Artie to get Artie a Japanese trinket that he had thousands of back in America. He loved them. Canada bought a few books and winter sporting magazines.

They soon found themselves back at the hotel a few bags in hand. "Alright guys, I wonder what reactions we'll get tomorrow," America grinned, having enough gall to sound excited instead of nervous about the conference being held tomorrow. "Hey Artie, come on over to my room and we can play some video games!" America added, glancing enthusiastically at Artie.

"America, please leave them alone," Canada poked at his used to look-alike's shoulder. "I think they should just get settled in their room," he added quietly. They didn't encounter anybody in the hallway that they knew, so that meant that nobody but them, France and Japan knew about England being cloned. They parted ways, going to their own hotel rooms and got ready for tomorrow—America playing video games before transitioning into his horror films, Canada with pondering over what they'd do tomorrow before being dragged into America's room to watch horror movies with him and the two Englands by simply sitting on the single bed, having nothing to say to each other giving that they were the same person in a way.

"So, what's up with you and America?" Art asked finally after two hours of nothing.

"Wh-what do you mean?" his shy counterpart asked, his face going a bit red. He began twiddling his thumbs as well before continuing when Art sent him a 'yeah sure whatever' look. "W-well…he just bought me a Japanese toy thing…I guess that's what's up," Artie continued, looking at Art with a slightly oblivious glint. The calmer of the two rolled his eyes and lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Okay."

XXXX

**Mm, hm, this took four days to type for some reason :P Lol, finished typing this at 2:30 in the morning and proofed it at 10:45 at night the next day, so hopefully there won't be any grammatical/spelling errors when you read it. If there are, please excuse them…So yeah :) Please review, I love to hear what you have to say and keep 'em gentle ;) Peace out my friends :)**


	2. Chapter 2

** Lol, it took all of my self-control to keep myself from updating earlier than today :D I'm so excited about this story and love playing around with the two Englands :D They're so much fun. So yeah, enjoy ;)**

**XXXX**

Five sets of feet tapped down the hallway to the conference room not too far from where they were coming from. America, Canada, France, Japan and the two Englands were headed to the meeting being held today. They had talked about what they'd do before they arrived and you could tell most of them were nervous too.

Inside of the conference room, almost everyone was present save for the five approaching said room and a few choice others. Nothing was out of place, so nobody jumped when America did his regular overdramatic entry, slamming the double mahogany doors open, his overconfident voice filling the room with the infamous line of '_the hero has arrived!_' that he'd yell whenever he did this. All of the occupants still looked up though to send a glare at the superpower. They were shocked at what they saw though.

Germany was about to yell at America for damaging the doors once more, but was silenced when he saw not one, but two Englands standing on each side of America. The room went deathly silent and America gradually began to feel self-conscious with all of the eyes on them. Tugging at the collar of his undershirt, America laughed nervously and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Trying to come up with something in his brain.

Italy tilted his head to the side, eyes closed, though still managing to see what was being presented at the doorway. "Ve~" he tilted his head to the other side. "Germany, there's two Englands _and_ Americas," Italy smiled at Germany, tugging lightly on the others sleeve.

"I'm not America…"

"America…is this some sort of prank?" Germany sighed after snapping out of his stupor, shaking his head slowly and placing a hand on his forehead. It wasn't a good sign when America chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head just as nervously, shifting his weight once more.

"Uh…no not really…" he started. "I…kinda cloned Iggy here with Japan's new cloning gun thing…" he continued, letting his arm fall to his side. He watched all of the room's inhabitants warily examine the two Englands, some shocked that they'd finally managed to master cloning while others looked like they had expected for it to be _Japan_ to figure it out. Germany noted how one England stood straight, holding a stoic expression while the other was slightly hunched over, looking rather intimidated with how much attention they were receiving.

Germany watched almost tiredly as Italy smiled softly and approached Artie. "White flag?" he offered, that sweet smile never leaving. The white flag was one of Italy's mass-produced products and he always carried a few in case someone wanted one. France watched in amusement as Artie took the product shyly and thanked the pasta lover. France then leaned over to tell America to introduce everybody to the two.

"Oh! Hey guys, gotta tell you some other things too!" Alfred pulled Art into a one armed hug, the stoic clone glancing up at the America with an expression that clearly read 'I'm ready to leave now' before pulling himself from the half embrace. "This one here, we've decided on calling Art," he pat Art's head. "And this one—" he then pulled Artie into his side with his other arm, the other's face turning a deep shade of red at the action. "Is Artie, see any differences?"

"No," Germany grunted, not liking the pop quiz that had been thrown at him. Others agreed with him, though they all were shocked at the reactions both Englands that given. Both were on opposite sides of the spectrum of 'Regular England Reactions'. After further inspection though, they could see the only difference in between the two other than their expressions.

Artie had an ahoge.

America pinched the random strand of hair in between his thumb and index finger so they knew what he was talking about. "Artie has this!" he grinned, Artie looking like he was going to cry any minute from the 'abuse' he was receiving.

"Ve~! Just like me and Romano~" Italy happily piped, his smile widening, the stray curl that poked out from his hair curling and uncurling. It always baffled others how the oblivious country did that.

"Art's kinda apathetic about everything," he pat Art on the top of his head once more, said clone sending a mildly irritated glance up at the superpower. "And as you can see, Artie's kinda shy," he smiled down at Artie.

"They won't stop looking at us…" Artie clung to America's arm, backing away in an attempt to escape the attention.

With a sigh, Germany spoke up. "Will you find a solution to our problem?"

"A-ah, yes, I just got my scientists to work on that this morning," Japan answered in a hurry. Germany nodded and the five finally entered the room to sit down. America sat across from the two Englands who sat side by side, Artie twiddling his thumbs under the tabletop whilst looking around the room curiously.

The last few to arrive received the explanation about the two Englands sitting next to each other. China at first thought that he was suffering double vision, muttering that he was getting too old, until America explained to the Asian country with a bad case of the giggles. Germany soon started the meeting once everyone was settled and as if nothing had happened, America presented first, his presentation, obviously, on global warming. Of course his idea was ridiculous, but at least Artie looked extremely interested.

Clearly all nations present thought the idea was ludicrous as well and voiced their thoughts like always. America huffed and crossed his arms, glancing at the two Englands.

"This is not dumb! C'mon Iggy and Iggy, what do you think?" America asked, his voice hopeful. Art gazed up at the ceiling, arms crossed and posture indicating that he was bored, typical Art for ya.

"I don't care," he grunted, still staring up at the ceiling. America huffed once more and he then looked at Artie with an expectant look. Artie flinched back at the look America was giving him. Wasn't America nice? If so, then why was he looking at him like that?

"I-I-I dunno! Wha-at does ultraviolet mean?" Artie panicked, shocking all of the nation's more than it should've. But don't blame them, they were used to England arguing with America about whatever idea the young nation came up with, the older voicing that his idea was one a brainless dunce would spawn. This time, it was civil and the older was even mildly panicking.

Germany was happy that the two English speaking countries weren't arguing. Ecstatic in fact, but he would never let anyone see it, so he simply demanded for America to sit himself down. With a pout, America marched over to his seat and sat himself in it overdramatically.

"I thought your idea was good…whatever ultraviolet means…" Artie whispered across the table, America brightening up immediately at his words. He thanked Artie and flashed him a charming smile, it only widening when he saw the blush that spread across Artie's face.

It was Italy's turn to present after that. It obviously wasn't going to be on topic either, giving his long history of being off topic when at meetings. The poor boy had never been on topic once in his long life when it came to this kind of stuff. His presentation was supposed to be about air pollution, but the first words that came from the Italian's mouth were pasta related.

"I'll make pasta for everybody! It'll be great, I can make lots of pasta if I get some help from Romano, but he's really hard to get help from because he's so cranky and—" and so on and so on. Spain soon jumped in, offering to loan his best tomatoes for their upcoming lunch plans, the two European countries talking excitedly with each other. It didn't take long for others to jump in, their conversation now about lunch. Soon enough, a couple of them were arguing over what to eat for the upcoming meal.

"Are you _seriously _listening to them?" Art questioned, cocking an eyebrow at Artie who looked very interested in the conversation Italy, Spain and a few choice others were supporting. His twin looked at him with his large green eyes and cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah," he answered with a giddy yet shy smile. "I'm hungry," he then remarked a few seconds later, looking up at the ceiling the best he could without craning his head back. Art could only roll his eyes and listen in on the arguing nations, finding it more entertaining than those talking about their lunch.

Canada could tell Germany was getting peeved too with how red he was getting from restrained anger and how the muscular man ground his teeth together. So he braced himself for the upcoming 'eight minutes' speech Germany occasionally gave.

"Everybody _shut up_!" his voice rang, even echoing as he stood up abruptly, his chair being knocked back. Everybody silenced and appeared to be listening but had long since actually done so giving that many could recite it by heart. The man continued to lecture them, calling them irresponsible children and the such.

When Germany calmed down, glaring into every single pair of eyes looking at him, he soon realized that one pair was absent. "Where is…Artie…?" he looked like he had just eaten baby food when he said the nickname America had given the shy England. Everyone present began looking around themselves, suddenly realizing that, yes, in fact Artie was missing.

America looked in the first place that came to mind, under the table, slightly worried, but was soon relieved and even humored at finding the sandy blond hiding under said object. Artie was slightly hunched over, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clasped together tightly. He looked like he was praying and probably was with how panicked he looked.

"Don't worry guys, he's just under the table," America grinned. It didn't take long for almost every occupant to look under the large table as well. Lo and behold, Artie was under there, praying for his life, unaware that Germany had stopped yelling at everyone. France snickered when he saw the green eyed island nation.

Artie looked up, eyes slowly opening only to be met by almost every nation in the world. He then resumed the position with renewed panic. "I-I'm sorry—!" he started in a wail. "I-I was just scared and hid under here! I swear I didn't do anything please don't let Germany hurt me, he's scary and he's hurt me before and—!" Artie went on and on, his speech as fast as Italy when he was begging for one to spare his life. America wondered if the two could retreat at the same speed too…

He started to feel bad for the stressing island nation though and he was about to reach out to touch his shoulder when Artie was abruptly pulled away from his spot on the floor under the table. Looking up, everyone watched as Art excused himself politely, Artie unaware that he was being drug out of the room for he was still talking a mile a minute, hands still clasped together.

For a very long period of time, the group of countries were shocked silent once more. But soon enough they resumed with the meeting. Germany had to postpone the presentations until the two Englands returned since America insisted that the two should still be present since they still represented the United Kingdom for their other brothers who were too…irresponsible for the job.

Art drug Artie into the neighboring office room, forcefully seating the other in the chair. "Will you please calm down?" he sighed, his twin finally noticing that they were alone in a vacant office room. Artie sunk in the chair, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Clearly intimidated as well, Artie fiddled with his tie only to have Art tell him not to do that.

"I-I'm sorry…but Germany's yelling was scary and loud…" he whimpered, sinking further into the chair if possible. With a sigh, Art told him to straighten up and with slight hesitancy, Artie did so.

"Just relax and quit being so anxious," Art informed, one hand resting on his hip.

"Yeah, I know but…it's still scary…" he argued, though one couldn't call it arguing. It was far too weak to be considered that. "…Will you make me go back in there?" Artie then asked after a moment of silence, giving his look-alike the best puppy dog face he could muster despite the one he was aiming it at was basically himself.

"Yes," Art sighed, rolling his eyes and grasping Artie's wrist, pulling him up to his feet. "Now come on, we can't have them wait forever…just because I hate that place because it's boring and you're scared of Germany doesn't mean we can just skip out," Art continued reasonably, leading the other out of the office room and back into the conference room, earning themselves enough attention to make Artie cower back.

"Quit staring at him," Art snapped and America soon learned that when Art wanted something to be done, it would be done with the look he was sending everyone. It was pretty scary.

China soon continued with his presentation on technology, talking about the latest breakthroughs. This presentation was obviously supposed to be taken care of by Japan, but China had insisted he do it. Japan ended up with brainstorming other ways of fueling vehicles since what they were currently using was taxing to the environment. His presentation was loosely tied to Italy's clearly.

When China concluded his presentation with a thank you and a bow, he gathered his stuff and headed back to his seat. Germany had to clear his throat, looking at the two Englands. Artie didn't get what the muscular blond was trying to get out of them, but Art did and he stood, grabbing the suitcase he had brought with him along with Artie's wrist.

When Artie caught on, he planted his heels into the ground and began objecting, stuttering all over the place. France snickered at that along with a few other countries who found the sight of two Englands arguing over their upcoming presentation funny. Especially since the two were almost polar opposites.

America could see how Art was getting slightly peeved with Artie and he was afraid that Art would unleash that 'I'll make you piss you pants' look on Artie. The poor guy would probably burst into tears if Art gave him that. The snickers around them weren't exactly helping either…

"Come on you—" Art's eyebrows furrowed and his green eyes went toxic, the mostly apathetic half allowing his irritation to leak into his eyes. America couldn't count how many times Artie stuttered the word 'I' after that.

After some glaring from Germany himself, Artie slunk up to the front of the room, Art joining him, his irritation dissolving almost immediately. The two look-alikes began their presentation, it being about how to make transportation even safer than it was now.

America tilted his head to the side, finding the presentation a bit familiar before it struck him. He'd—

Quite a few countries burst out laughing at the next slide to their PowerPoint that appeared. Oh yeah…America had played a prank on England by putting a photo of himself shirtless at one of his Fourth of July parties in his PowerPoint in hopes of embarrassing the nation. That was before all of this cloning stuff happened. He had sharpie markered scribbles above his own eyebrows in an attempt to make it look like Englands and had a humorous expression on his face, letters painted in bold red paint 'IM ENGLAND' on his shaved chest.

Art looked over his shoulder to see what everyone was laughing about, Artie doing the same unfortunately. While the stoic of the two simply cocked an eyebrow, clearly unfazed, the other's reaction couldn't have been any more different.

"A-ah! So-sorry! We—! U-uh we didn't know that was there! I-I swear!" Artie wailed, waving his arms wildly, his face going an impossible shade of red. Those already laughing simply laughed more. Artie had his hands balled into fists, his lips pressed into a thin line, though he looked more scared than irritated. He was probably trying to look irritated in hopes of getting everyone to calm down and take them seriously. Unfortunately for him, he just looked like a frustrated child. Still more scared and nervous though.

"_Shut up you bloody bastards!_" Art bellowed, effectively silencing everyone, Artie jumping violently at the sudden outburst. He had put on that satanic glare once more, resulting in Italy hiding under the table much like Artie had not too long ago. The worst part about Art glaring at everyone was that it was aimed mainly at America, who swore he had just peed his pants right on the spot.

"Now, I will reinforce what Germany had told you guys earlier," Art started, his voice impossibly calm, his expression betraying it. "You are all down right immature for handling this situation like this—especially you _America_, what compelled you to do this? It clearly isn't funny and will only drag the meeting out longer for the time it takes up to calm you bloody children down," he continued, never breaking eye contact with America who was too intimidated to break it.

The rest of Art's lecture was mellow yet firm and for once, a lecture had gotten through everyone's thick skulls. America wasn't sure about it getting through France's, it wasn't likely since the guy was still giggling to himself.

When Art finished his speech, he looked around at the other nations attending the conference and nodded his head once, the glare of satin himself finally disappearing. America along with a few others sighed in relief, slightly slumping in their chairs since the stoic England's angry glare and mellow lecture had made them unconsciously fix their posture.

Art continued the presentation without Artie who was sitting on the floor, slightly hiding behind his twin, his face still beet red and America swore he heard the shyer of the two sniffling. The England that had continued the PowerPoint wrapped it up with a nod of his head and he helped Artie up, walking the sulking clone to their seats. America could tell that nothing had gone to the Frenchman's brain, for he looked like he was imagining…things. France was currently having mental images of two Englands getting 'steamy'.

When Germany had announced their lunch break, Italy happily went off to make his promised pasta, Spain and a few others following to help out. Artie sulked off somewhere while Art spoke with Japan, the Japanese island nation looking a little uncomfortable with how emotionless the clone was giving that he had just reprimanded the whole world with a demonic glare.

Canada approached America and he sent his neighbor a guilty look. "I feel horrible…" was all he could say. Canada simply nodded his head and led America to the doorway, advising him that they should scout for Artie giving that the other was showing signs of memory lapses. "Let's ask Japan first about that."

"Yeah, let's," and they waved Japan over, Art going off to have lunch likely alone. Well, that was until France joined him, a perverted look on his face. America noticed the jealous look Canada was sending the two, but ignored it as Japan approached them, a questioning expression having been adopted by the island country.

"Hey, have there been signs of memory lapses in the animals?" America asked, leaning closer to Japan as if it were top secret information. Japan, confused, shook his head, saying that all of the tested animals had shown no signs of memory difficulties.

"Why do you ask America?"

"Well…Artie's kinda showing signs of memory lapses...Canada pointed that out just now," America's face took on a worried expression. What if Artie did have a memory lapse? England before being cloned obviously knew what ultraviolet was and earlier during the meeting he had noticed how the English speaking nation had looked around the conference room as if it were his first time in there. There were a few other moments too.

"Oh…that's…that's a problem," Japan nodded his head, closing his eyes. "That's a big problem. You'll have to keep a careful eye on that and report to me if there's anything bigger going on," he continued, his morbid tone slightly frightening America.

"Dude, quit it with the morbid stuff, you're scaring me!" he whined.

"Please don't worry about it now—just go find Artie-san for us," Japan suggested, lightly shoving America away from himself, the American obviously invading his personal space. America sent him a shaky grin before grabbing a brooding Canada and dragging him off.

The two North American countries spent the next ten minutes searching before they found Artie huddled in a corner of an empty office room. It wasn't the one Art had drug him into, but it looked pretty similar to Artie.

"Hey Artie!" he threw on a fake grin along with fake enthusiasm in hopes of getting the other to liven up. Artie visibly jumped and he looked up at America with large green eyes, America melting on the spot at the sight. His fake smile turned soft as he approached the England that was watching him warily. And with the closer he got, the more painful the guilt became. "'M sorry…ya know…for…yeah…" America tried to explain, but failed epically.

Canada watched from the doorway, a fond smile creeping onto his face as he watched America treat Artie like a wounded dog. America, despite being the powerful brute he was, could be very soft in moments like these. Though he was socially awkward when it came of apologizing—it was something Canada was trying to get America to fix.

After a long moment of America's apologies getting him nowhere, Canada sighed. "Want to get some pasta?" he asked, his voice quiet, yet audible with how quiet the room and hallway was. Artie immediately perked up at the suggestion and a small smile surfaced and Canada almost laughed at the sigh of relief America let loose before thanking his neighbor.

"I-I heard Spain's tomatoes were really yummy. And that Italy makes good pasta…" Artie smiled.

"Did you seriously listen to them?" America snickered; placing a hand over his mouth to keep any other noises from coming out since he feared that Artie would be offended. Instead, the other simply tilted his head cutely and blinked, humming in question.

"Yeah, why?" he asked and he was clearly being truthful. America simply continued to snicker and waved it off with his hand, telling Artie not to worry about it. They left the empty office room for the cafeteria like room.

When they entered, they weren't surprised to find that Italy had whipped up enough pasta to feed the entire country of China, citizens included. It smelt great too. They weren't surprised either to see France trying to get into Art's pants, the later shoving him away, stating that he was getting into his personal space. It was funny how oblivious Art made himself seem, but the telltale blush was dusting his cheeks. It was so faint America thought that he was seeing things though, but it was there none the less.

"Come on dear _Angleterre_, it'll be fun and we'll finish up before the second half of the meeting~" France coed, going to grab Art's chin only to have his hand brushed away.

"No, now please get out of my personal space, you're leaning on me," he remarked blandly. America snickered once more as he grabbed his lunch, his head craned to the side so he could watch the two interact, not wanting to miss a single second of it. It was entertaining, he'd have to admit.

Artie happily bound over to Art and France, oblivious to what France was trying to get Art to do with him. "Hi guys~!" he smiled, a shy blush appearing on his cheeks as he spoke, not used to being so enthusiastic. "Wh-what are you doing?" he set the plate of pasta down at the seat across from the two.

"France here is trying to get into my pants."

"Get into your pants?" Artie tilted his head in confusion. "Like this?" he then obliviously stuck a hand into his pants and France's grin got larger while America turned red at what it implied—especially with how Artie's face was slightly flushed, though in nervous embarrassment, not…yeah. Off at another table, Spain snorted humorously at the display, forcing his laughter down, though unable to fight the smile stretching at his lips.

"No," Art snapped. "Now remove your hand, it's…implying something," Art's blush deepened and for once, he wore a flustered expression America hadn't seen on him yet.

"Ah…that is slightly what he's trying to say," France grinned, leaning closer to Art who shoved the Frenchman away from him once more, though this time a little more forceful. France remained in his seat much to Art's disappointment.

"H-hey guys!" America grinned, his fake enthusiasm back on which was paired with flustered nervousness.

"Hi America," Artie smiled at America. "Art says France is trying to get in his pants…uh…what does that mean? And why does everyone get red when I say that?" Canada snickered uncharacteristically as he seated himself next to France. "I-I mean, doesn't getting in someone's pants just mean like…getting in their pants? Like thi—"

"Please don't—!" America pulled Artie's hand away to keep him from repeating what he'd just done by grabbing his wrist. Artie turned red and stuttered. Huh, it was funny how Artie turned beet red whenever someone else touched him in a normal way, but wasn't fazed when he stuck his hand down his pants.

"O-okay I won't if it's so bad…"

"Oh it's far from bad _mon amour_, I could show you how good it can feel~" France leaned across the table, giving Artie a lustful look. Lucky for America and Art that Canada was there because they didn't know what they would've done if the quiet country hadn't uncharacteristically pulled France back into his own seat, demanding that he 'eat damn his pasta'.

"What does France mean?" Artie looked innocently at America. Figures…poor guy had forgotten about sex and what it was—he didn't even know what masturbation was apparently.

"U-uh maybe later…" _shit._ "I-I mean—damn it!" America turned a dark shade of red when France grinned at him.

"Now, now _Amerique_, you can't just leave poor Artie in the dark…unless Art would like to show him…?" he went as far as licking his lips, side glancing at the twin and Art abruptly stood up before storming off.

"I-I'll go get him…" Artie stood as well and started to leave when America grabbed ahold of his wrist once more, keeping the shy England from continuing on. "Bu-but…" Artie stared but America just shook his head almost frantically.

"Just eat your pasta…" and Artie looked as if he had completely forgotten about the pasta. He probably did too. The four began eating their lunch about fifteen minutes late, the pasta having cooled just enough from coming straight from the stove.

It was as good as promised.

XXXX

**Mon amour – My love**

** Lol, you like? I do :) I especially love the end. I love this story so much even though we're just on the second chapter. I just love it so much :D Please review, I love to hear what you have to say ;) Peace out my friends!**


	3. Chapter 3

** Hiya guys, I'm back. Hm, I think my little brother got me sick…Oh well, that won't keep me from updating. I'm so happy that it's Friday too, I've been dying for this week to end already and it finally came :) So enjoy the third chapter to this ridiculously amusing story :)**

**XXXX**

"Don't worry, this is normal…I think," America reassured, poking Artie in the top of the head. Their current situation was that Artie and Italy had both fallen asleep in the middle of the second half of the conference. It was normal for Italy to fall asleep and England had a strange, on and off history of falling asleep during meetings. America would sometimes call the Brit a hypocrite whenever he did fall asleep. "I mean…he does doze off during meetings every now and then…especially during World War two…" America continued, the second half a quiet mumble.

"Well that was mostly because of the situation his country was put in…" Canada pointed out to America, his voice quiet as well. America continued to lightly shake Arties shoulder in an attempt to wake the other. Artie was unresponsive while Italy noisily protested unconsciously.

"Just leave the two," Austria grunted, an irritated look being worn. "It's their fault if they miss something important," he continued. _Too bad nothing important is achieved here…_was what ran through America's head after the Austrian had crossed his arms moodily, just wanting to get the conference over with. A majority of the countries present agreed with him and soon enough, they left the two that had fallen asleep alone.

Throughout the rest of the meeting, America sent glances over to Artie in hopes of finding the other awake sooner or later. Greece was currently presenting a PowerPoint covering methods of stopping animal abuse further, though most of his pictures consisted of cats and how to take care of them properly. It was barely on topic. America almost fell asleep himself, but refrained from doing so, finding that three was too much.

Art would shove his knee into Artie's leg in an attempt to wake him as well throughout the meeting, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in light irritation. He glanced at his twin and huffed mentally when the other didn't even respond. France wouldn't stop sending him perverted looks either, which was starting to bother him.

Everyone soon started arguing over personal affairs during Canada's presentation, America feeling bad for his neighbor who stood at the front of the room, clearly being ignored. Germany, who was peeved and felt a headache coming on, ended up having to yell at them again, though he didn't tell his 'eight minutes only' speech. Neither Artie nor Italy woke up, Greece having also fallen into a snooze in the middle of France's presentation. The last at least had the decency of waking up when Germany began his bellowing.

They ended up adjourning the meeting early. America found himself standing over Artie once more, shaking the other a little more heavily than earlier.

"Wake up man…meeting's over," he sighed, tapping the other on the cheek twice. The one that had been sleeping opened his eyes wearily before straightening up and looking up at the two North American countries along with his look-alike.

"What's going on?" he then proceeded with asking, looking around the empty room. "Where's everybody?" Artie continued, standing up and stretching his arms high above his head.

"We stopped the meeting early—weren't really getting anything done, so you didn't really miss anything," America grinned, pulling Artie into a one-armed hug. Artie stared up at him, his cheeks flushing at the close contact. "You kinda fell asleep in the middle of it," he then pointed out, Artie's gaze falling to the bland floor after hearing that.

"S-sorry about that…I was just really tired," he explained, clasping both hands together. America told Artie to not worry about it and then turned to Canada, asking what they should do next.

"Oh, and I think we should tell Scotland, Ireland and Wales about you being…cloned…" America soon pointed out, feeling strange about saying cloned since the two England's seemed to be unaware that they had been cloned. Artie looked confused and Art acted like he didn't hear a word America had said. "What do you guys think of that?"

"Do-do we really have to? I-I mean…maybe we don't need to tell them…" Artie stopped and pondered over what America had just said. "…I…I'm…cloned…?" and he sounded so confused that America felt bad for the sandy blond in between his torso and his arm. "But Art and I aren't really similar…" Artie continued, looking at Art. "I-I mean…I was kinda scared when I looked in the mirror this morning since I saw Art in it…but then again…it was me…"

"Don't stress over it Artie," America interrupted, not wanting to hear more. Artie probably felt less independent than he already did now that he learned that he and Art were the same person.

Unfortunately the topic didn't leave Artie's head. "So I'm not real…?"

"No, no! You're totally real!" America desperately cut in, tugging Artie closer to himself who for once, didn't redden at his actions. "Help me out here Canadia! I just made Artie depressed! I don't want to be the culprit for his depression!" America panicked, turning to look at Canada who was watching him with a lightly concerned expression.

Canada was silent for a long moment, pulling a blank. "…How 'bout we go out to town? Shop some more?" the Northern country then suggested. Sure they had went shopping yesterday, but there was still a bunch more Canada wanted to check out in Tokyo city.

Nodding in frantic agreement, the four left for another shopping spree. America and Canada walked side by side, Artie to America's left and Art on Artie's left, Artie looking as if he were contemplating something, but coming up with things that only confused him more.

"Oh and we should ring up England's prime minister too…they need to know about this…" Canada soon spoke up.

"Are you sure about that?" Artie asked, an intimidated look being sent towards the two North American countries. "Wh-why can't we just stay in Japan?" he continued, edging closer to America as if asking wordlessly for protection.

"Man up," Art grunted, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the path ahead of him. Artie blinked at his twin, shying away from the other. Canada switched sides he was on, now walking next to Art.

"Be a little nicer with him…he's…kinda sensitive I guess," Canada suggested. Art grunted in response, sending Canada a brief glance before training his line of vision back to the sidewalk they were walking on. He then sighed. "I'm heading back to the hotel…don't really need to go shopping for anything."

America and Canada nodded their heads, Art turning to hail a taxi. "Oh! Hey Artie, I saw this cool Japanese styled Newton's cradle I thought you might like!" America piped after a moment of wordless strolling.

"…What's a Newton's cradle?"

The superpower hummed and extracted a small pocket sized notebook along with a pen, flipping the notebook open and jotting something down quickly. Curious, Canada asked to look at it and the small notebook was handed to him. It took Canada a moment to know what it was about before he realized that Alfred had been writing down the things this England had forgotten about.

_Meeting room_

_Didn't recognize Lithuania or Poland_

_Ultraviolet_

_Sex (not sure if he fully forgot about that)_

_Newton's cradle_

"Look like you're listening to Japan," Canada noted, closing the pocket book and handing it back to the American who pocketed it with a yep.

"Most aren't very important like the ultraviolet and the Newton's cradle," America nodded his head before grinning down at Artie who was giving them a bewildered look. "C'mon! I'll go show you, it's like, the coolest thing on earth!" America then grinned down at the shorter before dragging him off to the store he saw the trinket at. Canada followed, but at a casual pace, eventually falling behind. He didn't mind though since he was going to go look at some things he wanted to check out himself.

He ended up buying a few movies before finding America and Artie staring intently at a Japanese styled Newton's cradle that was currently ticking and tacking back and forth. Canada had been gone for half an hour and he wondered if the two had been staring at it all that time. Artie looked fascinated, his eyes following the movement of the trinket, turning his head whenever necessary.

As he approached the two, America looked up at Canada and greeted him cheerfully. "Have you two been staring at that thing for the last half hour?" Canada asked, faint amusement in his voice. America simply shrugged his shoulders and responded with a smart 'dunno'.

The three left after America bought the object for Artie, the cashier grinning at the two since he had entertained himself with watching the two blonds stare at the item they were currently purchasing. Their shopping continued with America buying as many movies as possible. They were now heading for a video game shop, Alfred excitedly bounding over, urging for Canada to move faster as Artie followed in curious interest.

Canada entered the shop and found Artie playing a demo the shop had up, America having likely told him to try it. He found America picking up a few games—Canada was amazed at how America had yet to own every single game out there. Japan was really good at meeting the bespectacled nation's demands. Canada would have to congratulate the Asian island country later, and with the pace America was going at, the guy might as well just buy the whole store.

After receiving his two bags full of new video games, America and Canada turned to watch Artie who was currently epic failing, according to America, at the demo the shop offered.

"I've never really been able to get England to play video games before," America pointed out, Canada nodding his head. "Ha, ha…poor guy kinda sucks…I might have to teach him the proper way of playing…he's holding the controller upside down…" America continued in a snicker. Canada laughed as well—even he was better than Artie.

Art stepped out of the taxi, thanking the driver in Japanese along with dropping the proper amount of money into the driver's hand. He then approached the hotel they were currently residing in during their occupation in Japan. When he arrived on the floor his and Artie's room was on by the elevator, he began his trek to his room.

Sighing, he reached into his pocket for the card key, having been given a copy now that there were two inhabitants to the room. He turned a corner and had one more before he arrived at his room, thinking about what had happened last night as he strolled down the hallways. He had originally requested for Artie to sleep on the pull-out bed, but the other fought against him childishly, clearly refusing to sleep on it. Defeated and not wanting to have Artie whine any further, he had said that he'd sleep on the pull-out bed and Artie objected to that as well, going on about it being unfair. So Art found himself sharing a bed with his shy, yet stubborn childlike twin. He didn't really like how cuddly the other was either.

They were also running out of clothes. There had originally been enough for seven days for one person, but now that there were two, there was only one pair of clothes left. Art grimaced at the thought of having to wear dirty clothes. Despite his apathetic exterior, he did care about what he wore.

"Ah hello Art," he turned to spot France leaning on his doorway, grinning at Art suggestively. Huffing he shoved his hands back into his pockets and continued on, telling the other to sod off in a moody grumble. He continued his walk to his room, but was stopped when Francis spun him around by the shoulder. "Now, now _mon ami_, why so cold?" he asked.

France started attempting to seduce Art who, much to his liking, was slowly taking the bait. Well…that was until he snapped himself out of it. "I advise that you either grow up, or go rape someone else," Art grunted, turning once more and began walking again. Huffing France followed Art who was currently talking about France's flaws.

Art was about to say something else when France grabbed him from behind, his arms winding around Art's. The calmer England didn't act surprised and he soon found the position familiar. As France proceeded with dragging Art into his hotel room, Art soon noted that he felt like their conversation should've been about marriage.

America plopped into a tall seat, ordering a beef dish he always got whenever in Japan as he did so, his Japanese impressively fluent in Canada's point of view. Canada himself ordered something that had a lot of fish in it, feeling like eating something out of the ocean at the moment.

Their food arrived in an amazingly short amount of time and America began shoveling it down, occasionally feeding a forkful to Artie—he had yet to master the chopsticks. Artie wasn't disgusted by America's food shoveling, but clearly wouldn't follow the other's example, eating daintily whenever offered some beef from America. He blushed whenever he took the food too, America refusing to give the fork to Artie. He felt pretty self-conscious with how their server was staring at America in astonishment, wondering how the American shoveled so much food into his mouth in so little time before reminding himself that this guy was probably American. Canada was watching the two unconsciously with a fond look.

America was on his sixth serving when Artie spoke up. "Hey you got some rum back at the hotel?" he asked. America immediately stopped his eating when Artie asked, a piece of beef sticking out of his mouth as he almost dropped his fork.

"Why?"

Artie shrugged his shoulders, smiling shyly at America. "Just wondering…and 'm kinda thirsty…" America blinked a few times before resuming with his eating with an 'oh'.

"We have soda back at the hotel," America suggested. He really didn't want Artie to drink alcohol mainly because he was afraid of what type of drunk the other was. Angry drunk, like normal England, didn't exactly fit his personality now, but you never know.

"Okay—I like soda," Artie answered with a smile before taking the food America offered to him, a blush dusting his cheeks as he did so.

The three stepped out of the taxi, thanking the driver who sent a confused look at Artie, muttering under his breath in Japanese before accepting the yen that was being handed to him. He sent Artie another look before driving off.

"Why did he look at me like that?" Artie asked. "Did I do something?" he continued, worry lacing his voice.

"Don't worry about it Artie, Art probably had the same cab driver and the guy probably got a little confused when he saw you," America reassured with a grin as he shifted his bags into a more comfortable position. Nodding his head, the three continued into the tall building.

They parted ways when Canada headed to his own room and Artie and America to their own. Artie set the bag that contained the Newton's cradle on the nightstand next to the single bed and he looked around the room, finding it empty. Hadn't Art come back to the hotel earlier? If he wasn't here, then was he kidnapped?

Panicking lightly, Artie left his room and knocked on America's door quickly, calling for the other to come out. When America finally opened the door, his game paused in the background; his irritated look disappeared when he saw the upset expression Artie had adopted. "What's wrong?"

"Artie's not in my room…I don't know where he is either," Artie explained his reason for coming to America. The superpower smiled and pat Artie on the head like a dog before scuffling his hair affectionately.

"Don't worry about it Artie—I'm sure he's just out having some fun, whatever's fun in his opinion," America grinned at the blush Artie was sporting and when he took his hand from Artie's head, almost snickered at how the ahoge atop his head bounced back up in a happy way.

Artie nodded and turned to leave only to return a few minutes later, claiming to be lonely. America sighed and told Artie that he was coming, grabbing a few movies and games. The two migrated into Artie's shared room and America popped a game into the Wii system the hotel provided for them.

"Now I'll show you the proper way to play a video game," America grinned, Artie clearly not getting it, but playing along none the less. The two started a Mario game and America began to wonder how Italy would like it. Romano would go insane if he ever played it—that's what America concluded. Italy would probably love its bright and happy colors on the other hand. Artie was currently enjoying it, screwing up here and there, but adapting pretty well to the easy controls.

The two were about fifteen minutes into the game when the door opened, America pausing the game to see who had entered. Art stood at the doorway, hair much messier than it normally was and his face was flushed. America watched Art saunter over to the bed and lay back on it with a loud sigh while Artie greeted his twin enthusiastically. Art ignored him.

"Art! America and I are playing Mario…or whatever it's called!" Artie grinned at his look-alike, bouncing in his spot on the floor in front of the large television.

"Dude, what happened?" America asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Did France get to you before we did?" he continued, finding that a likely outcome giving that the Frenchman had returned to the hotel directly after the meeting.

"Unfortunately yes," Art sighed, rubbing his forehead. His then exhaled one more, though this time it was loud and heavy. "Damn bastard went at it twice…" he muttered mostly to himself, but America heard it and snickered. Art then rolled over onto his stomach, glaring at the bright colors on the television. "I'm going to go clean up…"

America and Artie resumed their game playing before Alfred suggested that they watch a movie when Art got out of the shower. Artie had happily agreed, suggesting a few movies Alfred had bought that weren't scary movies. They picked out a movie just as Art stepped out of the bathroom, still looking a little moody.

"Art! We're gonna watch a movie~!" Artie chimed happily, pulling Art down onto the bed, the latter clearly not approving of the action. America snickered at the sight of two Englands wrestling on the bed, one unbelievably happy and the other obviously peeved, but a hint of fondness showing. They were like identical siblings—real twins if you must with the way they acted around each other.

"Get off of me…" Art grumbled, shoving Artie off of him only to have the other come back to cuddle into his side like a kitten. "Ugh…Artie—just—I've been touched enough okay?" Art grunted, shoving Artie away from him one more. America snickered once more before joining the two on the bed, pulling Artie in for a gentle nuggie, the other yelping in surprise.

Artie's grin was huge when he managed to wiggle out of America's hold before he jumped back on said superpower, hugging him gleefully. America wrapped his arms around Artie once more, though more gently. Art rolled his eyes in the spot he was sitting at before being pulled into a hug by Artie, a toothy grin stretching at his lips. America then pulled Art into a nuggie, feeling that both England's deserved the gesture.

"Hey! Let go of me!" Art yelped, pulling out of America's grasp, though happiness gleamed in his eyes at receiving attention as well.

"Naw, I know you love it!" America replied and pulled Art into a hug this time. "You two are so awesome!" he then proceeded to tell.

"Oh…America we need more clothes," Art announced. America pulled away and glanced into Art's green eyes in confusion before getting what the other was saying, nodding his head and saying they'd go shopping tomorrow too. The American then noted that Art's eyes were a shade darker than Artie's whose were a vibrant green. "What?"

"Just making sure I know every single difference in between you two," America answered before returning his attention to the television, pressing the play button. The two England's turned their attention to the television as well as the movie Artie had chosen started.

Around their third movie, Canada joined the three. Canada had brought up a few of the movies he'd bought while out shopping earlier. By nine at night, they had gone through five movies and Artie was getting bored with movies. They soon transitioned back to the Mario video game they were playing, Canada joining along with Art who was reluctant with doing so.

They played pretty late into the night and ended up having Germany knock on their door, yelling at them to turn down the volume. Canada checked the time and jumped up, excusing himself for it was midnight, saying that he should go to sleep. America though, kept the Canadian from doing so, pulling his look-alike back into his room. They then just ended their time together with a bit of talking before finally going to their own rooms to go to sleep around three in the morning.

Art again ended up with Artie cuddling up to him. The more childish of the two clearly had no sense of personal space, but as long as the other didn't snore, sleep talk or move in his dreams, Art was fine. Artie didn't do either anyways—one he was out, he was out.

America woke up pretty late too—it being almost lunch time. He didn't even want to get up either, but the thought of seeing Artie got him out of bed. He did his regular morning routine and soon found himself in front of both Englands' door, knocking on it. He was slightly surprised when Art answered, but then again, England was an early riser.

When he entered, he corrected himself. Art was an early riser; Artie was still dead asleep, sprawled out on the bed. Greeting Art with a yawn, America plopped himself into a chair that was currently sitting in the corner after pulling it closer to the foot of the bed. Art returned the greeting.

"So what will we be doing today other than getting some more clothes for you two?" America then asked, rubbing at his eyes, lifting his glasses with his knuckles. Art shook his head from side to side, not really wanting to do anything that day. He had a limp he didn't want America to find out about, but would anyways when they would go shopping. "Okay, let's wake Artie and go."

America sighed in slight agitation, Artie turning down everything he was offered. He had tried some nice Japanese clothes which were turned down a few sweaters and long sleeve shirts that were Japanese styled also, them also being turned down. Art on the other hand, got whatever he found interesting. He wished that Artie was as easy as Art—the shyer of the two didn't even go looking for his own clothes like a normal adult! He was acting like a child.

"How about this Artie?" America sighed, holding up a pastel green T-shirt. "It's just a T-shirt and it's the last thing I'll be suggesting…" he continued. At least Artie looked interested when the shirt was handed to him.

"Can we get one that looks different?" he then asked and America did a mental victory dance, finally having gotten Artie interested in something as simple as a T-shirt. With a sure, he lead Artie to a different aisle to the store. The two browsed their choices and eventually, America ended up getting the childish England a few green tees and long pants, etc…while Art found his own clothing after trying them on.

"Cool beans guys, we got some clothes and…why're you limping?" America then asked, motioning to the limp Art was trying to hide. The one he was questioning clearly sent America an expression that read 'ask again and I'll have to rip your head off and spit down your throat'. America simply concluded that France in fact _did_ get to Art before they did. He snickered to himself and earned a frightening look that quickly silenced him.

The rest of their day consisted mostly of some more video game playing with Artie, Art sitting behind the two, mildly interested in what they were doing. He would watch them for a few minutes before returning to a book he had found in their suitcase. Art had extracted the book mark and started from the beginning of the book.

XXXX

**That last part wasn't the greatest ending to a chapter I've ever written, but too bad :P Lol hope you liked it, I really loved writing the part where Artie's all cuddly with everyone :D He's like a puppy/kitty. Yay, I'm getting a new puppy around Christmas since my big dog died around three weeks ago :( This chapter isn't proofed, so please excuse any mistakes…'m sick and don't feel like proofing it and it's kinda late…:P**

** So yeah, the norm, please review 'cause I love to hear what you guys have to say and peace out my friends :D**


	4. Chapter 4

** Hi guys :D Ha, ha, my computer kinda threw a fit on me and I couldn't get onto the internet so I kinda panicked about being unable to update…Luckily my dad fixed the problem for me :D Enjoy~**

**XXXX**

Their time in Japan had ended and they were currently on a plane back to England, scheduled to land in London. Artie and America were in an aisle on the left side of the plane while the other three were in the middle aisle, Art two rows behind them and Francis and Canada three rows behind them, one behind Art.

Artie was currently peering out the window curiously, watching the city of Tokyo get smaller and smaller before they were soon over the sea for a short amount of time. He pressed a finger against the window, forehead also pressed up against it, watching his breath fog up the window briefly before disappearing. He then turned to look at America whose thumbs were pressing rapidly on the touchscreen to a Nintendo DS handheld Japan had given him years ago.

"What're you playing?" Artie asked, leaning over to get a peek at the screens. The game was colorful, that was something Artie could conclude.

"Pokémon!" America grinned, turning the device so Artie could see it better. "The new one! Black and White," he continued, returning the DS to its original position so he could resume playing.

"You mean the one with Pikachu?" Artie asked, leaning closer to America once more. If America hadn't been holding the video game system, Artie was basically leaning on America. America nodded his head wordlessly, eyes trained on the double screens. "…May I play…?"

America set his DS down and pulled out his carry-on from under the seat in front of his. "Good thing for you I've got two DS's!" America grinned, extracting a second handheld and handing it to Artie. "Just don't restart the game and you're fine," America returned to his game.

The two soon were playing a two player function in the games when America looked over his shoulder to find the other three accompanying them back to England dead asleep. He grinned when he heard the faint noise of France's snoring before returning to playing Pokémon with Artie.

The rest of the ride consisted of Alfred and Artie playing video games until the systems died. Then Alfred whipped out a few different non-Nintendo handhelds and they continued playing. By the time those were about to burn out, they touched down in London. They got off of the plane, France, Canada and Art having woken up an hour ago, not too far behind. Then they went over to baggage claim and received their luggage before going out to hail two taxis.

Art unlocked the door to the large home and stepped in, holding the door open for the rest of their guests. As they enter, Canada pulled out his cellular, turned it back on and called Wales, Ireland and finally Scotland.

"A-are you still sure we should tell them?" Artie asked once more, clearly unsecure with the idea. Canada nodded his head without looking at the shy England as he continued to talk with Scotland on the phone.

"Don't worry Artie," America grinned, placing a hand on the blonds shoulder with a wide grin. "It'll be completely fine, why're you so nervous?"

Art grunted and shoved France away from him once more as he set his luggage in the living room. "Leave me along France, I don't want to deal with you right now…" he mumbled, shoving France away from him once more when the wavy haired blond invaded his space once more.

"Now come on Art—let's leave these guys and why not fly to my place?" France grinned, getting closer to Art once more and throwing an arm around the other's shoulder. "These guys are boring anyways," he continued.

"We have to wait for my brothers France," Art pointed out dully, shoving France's arm off of his shoulders before shoving the man himself away from him.

France crossed his arms almost childishly. "You're such an old man Art," he sighed, though his grin never faded before stepping closer to Art once more, pretty damn determined to pester the other into getting what he wanted.

"Still, leave me alone…or at least stop leaning on me," Art growled, shoving France away from himself once more. France decided to stop, happy that he got the other to request something smaller than leaving him physically. Canada suddenly walked up to the two, still on his phone and grabbed France by his upper arm, dragging him off. Art sighed and mentally thanked Canada.

After settling in, the five found themselves sitting on the furniture in the living room. "Wales and Ireland can't come for some reason," Canada announced as he seated himself on the couch next to America. They fell into friendly chatting before someone began banging harshly on the front door. Sighing, Art decides that he should answer the door and excused himself.

He opened the door, putting on the most apathetic facial expression he could muster as he did so. "England! I heard something happened to'ya," Scotland greeted, a cigar hanging out of his widely grinning mouth.

Art blinked a few times, not used to being addressed by 'England' before something in his brain told him to respond. "Oh…sorry about that Scotland," Art grunted, stepping aside to let the redhead in. Scotland sent him a slightly confused look before strolling into the living room.

"Oi, so, wha'ddya call me over for?" Scotland asked before the cigar dropped out of his mouth when he saw Artie in the room. He looked over his shoulder as Art, who had followed him in, stepped passed the redhead and seated himself in one of the chairs next to the couches America, Canada, France and Artie were seated at. "Wha..? Wha'ddya doing here? Is this some sorta prank?"

"Eh, heh, not really a prank," America started as Scotland approached Artie who shied away. With the position of the couch and the chair Art was sitting in, it looked like Artie was trying to hide behind his twin. Art watched Scotland closely as he brightened up and pinched Artie's ahoge in between his thumb and index finger.

"Why's he wearing a skirt?" Artie whispered as America whipped out his little notebook.

_Kilt._

"It's a kilt."

"He's got one-a these hair things!" he grinned and had his hand swat away by Art, who mildly glared up at him.

"Don't do that," Art's tone was flat yet demanding. Scotland grinned and ruffled Art's hair.

"That's the England I know—though you're a little more…I dunno, somethin'" Scotland shrugged his shoulders and walked over to where he had dropped his cigar. He picked it up, wiped off whatever dirt had gotten onto it, inspected it sharply and placed it back into his mouth. Artie was clearly disgusted by the action by the quiet sound he made.

America had observed the three interact and figured that they might get along as long as everything went smoothly. He smiled when Art swatted Scotland's hand away from Artie—despite his 'I don't care about anyone' exterior—America had noted how protective Art had the potential of being.

"Hey Art," Artie tugged lightly at Art's sleeve an hour after Scotland had arrived. "Can we go outside? Like, to Hyde Park?" he continued, smiling up at his twin.

"Yeah, let's go, that sounds awesome! I mean—it's not raining here for once, let's take advantage of that!" America piped, having heard what Artie had said. He stood and immediately drug Canada with him. Artie enthusiastically followed, calling for America to wait for him. Scotland soon followed, still looking a bit shocked at what had just happened and Art along with France followed almost reluctantly.

The five soon found themselves sitting in Hyde Park, everyone but France and Art eating ice cream. America was already almost done with his enormous cone, Canada having given up on getting the other to slow down and enjoy it. Canada and Artie were talking with each other while America told Scotland the story and what they had decided to call the two England's and told differences so he could tell the difference. France was currently flirting with Art too.

"Big brother sometimes says it's a manly skirt though…I didn't know it had a name…" Artie remarked to Canada, holding his ice cream in one hand and picking at the grass with the other. Canada smiled and leaned back in his spot to look up at the slightly cloudy sky.

"Nah…it has a name Artie," he answered before resuming with eating his frozen dairy treat.

After a bit of silence, Artie spoke up once more. "Oh, I wanna go on the London Eye tonight because I really like city lights at nighttime because it's really pretty…can you guys come with me?" he asked Canada, a hopeful smile on his face.

"Sure, I'll go, I'm not sure about the others…" Canada nodded his head. Artie turned enthusiastically to face Scotland, a shy grin on his face.

"Hey big brother, do you wanna come on the London Eye tonight with Canada and I? Maybe I can get America to come too," Artie continued to smile shyly at Scotland who was looking at the shy England in slight shock at being called 'big brother'. The way Artie was looking at him was such an uncharacteristic look that Scotland doubted he was talking to a cloned England.

"Dude, yeah that sounds awesome! The first time I went on that was so cool! Even I'd have to admit," America piped up after stuffing the rest of his cone into his mouth, it being full with it. "I'm totally coming," he finally piped once he swallowed it down.

"I'll pass," France spoke up. Artie turned to look at France, looking hurt.

"Why not?"

"I just don't feel like it," the Frenchman waved his hand in the air before falling back into the grass on his back, staring up at the sky.

"Suit yourself," America shrugged his shoulders before grabbing Artie by the wrist and pulling him to his feet, the other blushing at the contact—Scotland snickered at that. So they went around London, following either America or Artie who both ran around the city like excited children. Canada didn't know when America had become so fond of the city, but since the American wasn't complaining about being bored, Canada was glad about that.

When the sun began to set, France had gone back to England's house while the four went to the London Eye, spending a bit of time in line. After that, America found himself 'babysitting' both Englands at a pub, Canada having gone back to England's house with Scotland who left because he'd been banned from all pubs in London.

Nonetheless America was severely thankful that Artie wasn't an angry drunk as he watched the Brit wave his glass in the air, his cheek pressed into his arm which was rested on the tabletop, requesting more rum. The bartender arrived and fulfilled Artie's request, looking a bit confused.

He then leaned over to America. "Is that Arthur Kirkland?"

"What? No…I think you're thinking about that guy," America grinned, pointing at Art who was sitting a few seats away from them, swaying back and forth lightly. "Why?"

"Oh, he comes here more often than other places and…he just looks familiar and I thought his behavior was a little off. Is he like…a twin?"

"Yep," America nodded, immediately playing along. It was slightly true too. Artie knocked back his refilled drink and leaned back a little too far, falling out of his seat and onto the floor. "Visiting for the first time after a while—he's from the States," he added, holding back a snicker.

"I can see…" the bartender grumbled, glancing at the two England's in confusion before going off to pour some alcohol for someone else. America then glanced over at Art who was currently glaring venomously at his empty glass of what used to be alcohol.

America chuckled as he helped Artie to his feet. "The thing won't refill itself if you keep glaring at it like that," America let go of Artie's wrist and the other stumbled over to Art before seating himself sloppily in the seat next to Art, heavily swinging an arm around Art's shoulders.

"Ya know…'Merica's on thuh left side of thuh map…" Artie grinned stupidly, leaning heavily on Art who grunted. America just snickered at the useless information and seated himself on the opposite side of Art that Artie was sitting in.

"I'm literally surrounded by idiots…" Art grumbled under his breath, lowering his head to the tabletop.

"Now," Artie started, shaking Art slightly with the arm wrapped around his shoulders. "If you wanna nahs 'n' healthy tree to be growin' in the middul of yer house…I'd say that you give if LOTS of watah…and uh…stuff trees eat and sunlight…yeah…sunlight…it'll grow to be nahs 'n' tall," Artie nodded his head confidently.

"I think you've drank enough Artie," America smiled, grabbing Artie's wrist and helping up to his feet once more.

"Noo~! I dun wanna go! Noo~!" Artie whined rather loudly and dug his heels into the floor. Well, America hadn't expected that from the quiet, shy England, but then again, when drunk, almost anything could happen. America began apologizing to those who sent them strange looks as he shoved open the door and drug Artie out with him.

The two were now walking down the sidewalk, the sun having set completely, the city covered in a blanket of bright lights. "America, that wasn't fair! Art's still there drinkin', why didn't you take him too?" Artie whined, trying to tug his wrist from America's grip.

France, Scotland and Canada all glanced over at the front door when America and Artie made a rather abrupt and loud entrance. America drug the loudly complaining Brit upstairs, a few minutes passing before the American returned, sighing an apology before seating himself at the dining table the three had seated themselves at.

"Hey, where's Art?" Canada asked.

"I left him at that bar—pub," America corrected himself automatically, having been reprimanded by England so much back when he would visit and call a pub a bar. "You might have to go pick him up pretty soon before someone gets to him…he's drunk—but he's a quiet drunk, thank God," America sighed. Canada nodded his head and stood up, excusing himself as he did so before going out the front door to find Art.

A few minutes after Canada had left, Scotland decided to speak up. "So wha'ddya do with Artie?"

"Put him in his room and told him to stay there—didn't lock the room though, that's a little…eh," America answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"He's kinda a bother no matter what kind of drunk he is isn't he?" Scotland asked, a grin on his face as he lit another cigar. America chuckled and nodded his head in agreement.

He then perked up slightly at the sound of footsteps coming down the staircase before tumbling down the rest. He jumped up and looked around the wall that separated the kitchen from the staircase, finding Artie sprawled out in front of the bottom of the staircase, face down, waist down on the steps and luckily unharmed. "Wha—Artie what are you doing?" he then asked when he recognized the outfit the drunk clone was wearing.

"Imma drunk cowboy…" Artie mumbled into the hardwood floor. America, sighing, helped Artie up for the third time that night.

"Where did you get those anyways?" he then asked, a smile stretching at his face at how good a cowboy theme looked on Artie, straightening the hat as the other straightened up, teetering back and forth though.

"I found it in one of them guest rooms—Bang!" Artie answered before whipping out what looked like a Colt Peacemaker. America jumped back, yelping in surprise before noticing that the gun was fake and sighed in relief.

Scotland then began to snicker. "The boots are on the wrong feet," he pointed down at Artie's feet and yes in fact they were on the wrong feet. Artie plopped onto the ground, the sound he made sounding painful, though the alcohol numbed it. He then removed the boots with difficulty before putting them on the correct feet.

"Is this betur?" he asked, looking up hopefully at the redhead.

Just then Canada and a rather sober looking Art arrived. "Why is Artie wearing your old cowboy clothes America?" Canada asked as he closed the door, Art giving Artie an expression that clearly read 'okay, what have you done now?' as he stepped around France to get some water to drink. Unfortunately, France groped him on the way in and he ended up having to shove the wavy haired blond to the ground.

America figured that Art could hold his liquor much better than Artie since he wasn't swaying as bad as the latter—the two were like opposites.

"I'm juss havin' sum fun," Artie whined, a downcast look overtaking his drunken happiness. "Oh hey!" he immediately cheered up. "I saw some other costumes in thuh guest rooms and thought that you guys wood like to join?" Artie then suggested, excitement shining in his green eyes. "It'll be fun! Art 'n' I will be cowboys 'n' America 'n' France can be in them Victorian kinda like clothes I found in my closet," he continued, swaying as he threw his arms into the air, a stupid grin stuck to his face.

"Okay!" America agreed, grabbing France by the wrist before the other could oppose. "Let's go Frenchie!" he piped as they headed up the stairs. Artie then proceeded with dragging Art up the staircase as well. Scotland and Canada cast each other slightly confused looks before looking back up the staircase, waiting for the four to return.

It took a while, but after a bit of time, America came down the steps, Scotland whistling before grinning up at the American. "Impressive," the redhead then remarked and Canada had to agree. America looked…smart and witty with the sly grin he wore along with the Victorian styled clothing he had gotten himself into.

France soon followed and Canada liked this style on the Frenchman—he now looked even more of a ladies man. "How do I look?" France spread his arms slightly, glancing down at himself. "I guess you can't really blame people for liking this style—despite it being Englands…" he continued.

"How'd you find clothes that fit you America—no offense," Scotland asked, a grin on his face.

"No prob Scottie-boy and I guess I was just lucky, I just came across a pair of clothes that were my size," America answered. "Oh, and France, I think we forgot some weapons…"

"Why?"

"Where up against cowboys and I like—invented them!" America piped just as Artie and Art appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Aight you Limies, get outta our land!" Artie grinned down at the two, pointing the Peacemaker down at the two. America grinned and tipped his hat slightly, not missing the light blush that spread across Artie's face before spinning around the wall that separated the staircase from the kitchen in a flashy way, France following him, though leaving out the spin.

"His southern accent is so whacked up!" America grinned as they speed walked to the large living room. "It's a mix of that and British! I didn't think I'd ever hear it!" he continued in a laugh. France rolled his eyes.

Apparently Artie and Art had taken the opposite direction around the corner of the staircase, meeting the two 'gentlemen' on the other side of the living room, Artie pointing the fake gun at the two, a rebellious grin on his face—apparently the alcohol helped him role play better. "We got'chya now!"

"No you don't!" America pulled France off to the side and into the basement. At the bottom of the steps, there was a regular door and then to their right there was an old wooden door that looked very heavy—knowing that England had a tendency to perform magic every now and then, America took the regular looking door that lead into a nice room that America had helped decorate. It was huge too none the less—three couches, two reclining chairs and a large television in front of said furniture. On the other side of the room was another staircase that led to the floor they had just gotten off of, just on the other side of the house.

"Jeez, I can really tell you helped with this room," France remarked as they walked to the other side of the room, footsteps being heard behind them.

Scotland and Canada watched the two England's go down to the basement, Scotland muttering about the urge to call Japan or Hungary. The two then followed Art and Artie down the basement—Art obviously unenthusiastic about the whole role playing thing.

"These four are hilarious," Scotland remarked as they entered the basement room just as Artie jumped over the reclining chair and rounded the corner, stomping up the stairs, Art in tow. Canada grinned and agreed with a nod of his head, hands stuffed into his pockets. "We should move a bit faster if we wanna watch 'em," the redhead added and they hurried to the other side of the room and up the stairs.

"He's gotta—!" _thunk_. "Rope…" the two reached the top of the stairs to see that Artie had successfully lassoed America around the ankle somehow.

Artie grinned and motioned for Art to go after France. Rolling his eyes, his twin did so. "So, ya give up ya limey?" Artie then asked, a huge, triumphant grin plastered to his face.

"No way!" America grinned, stood up and started running, making Artie fall down due to his strength. "Ha, ha, what now?" he laughed, taking the rope in both of his hands and dragging Artie closer to him.

"Ai say yer pretty strong mishter limey!" Artie giggled, hands gripped tightly around his end of the rope. America was happy for the hardwood floor, it was easy to slide around in here. "But yer probably not strong enough to face my…uh…gun!" Artie whipped out the gun again and aimed. "Bang! Ha, ha, got'chya," Artie barked triumphantly.

America played along and pretended to get shot in the shoulder. "You're aim's not good enough!" he laughed, shaking his leg out of the lasso and then ran off, laughing. "You'll never catch the hero!" he called over his shoulder as Artie pushed himself up from his stomach and chased after him, a large grin on his face.

"Yes I will! 'N' mah twin brother will catch yer partnur!" Artie called after him, catching up rather swiftly, being a fast runner. America wondered if Artie could run alongside Italy when in retreat mode. America then decided to turn around and just as Artie was about to tackle him, he swung his arms around the other, half spinning him in a hug. "Hey! I gotta gun, you can't do that!"

"It's not a real gun though," America grinned, nuzzling the other, not failing to make Artie turn a deep shade of red. America then knocked the hat back, it staying around Artie's neck because of the string that kept it on. He then looked over at Canada and Scotland who was snickering at the two. "You two can go find France and Art—hey guys, let's watch a movie!"

"Yeah! I wanna watch a movie!" Artie chimed, arms wrapped around America's neck unknowingly to him. Canada nodded his head and went off to find the other two, Scotland taking a moment longer to leave, that grin still stuck to his face. "Hey America, whadrewe gonna watch?" Artie asked, 'what are we' being mashed into one word.

"I dunno, we can let them choose," he smiled, arms still wrapped around Artie's waist. He then decided to give the shorter a peck on the tip of his nose, resulting in the other resembling one of Spain's tomatoes. Smiling, he then kissed Artie on the lips, unable to hold himself back. But it was brief and too short for both of their likings.

"…Can…can you do that again…? I-I mean may—!" Artie had started to correct himself when America reconnected their lips. Artie tasted like alcohol since the other had drank not too long ago mixed with a sweet taste. The alcohol outweighed everything else, so America concluded that he should kiss Artie when the other was sober and when there was no trace of alcohol. They then separated after what felt like days. "…Thanks…"

"No prob—now let's go watch a movie!" America piped excitedly, throwing Artie over his shoulder, the other wailing before giggling ecstatically as he was carried into the living room.

After a bit of time, Canada, Scotland, France and Art joined them—Canada was given the privilege of choosing the movie. So they ended up watching a romantic comedy and two other movies before Scotland had to leave. They watched one more before everyone but Canada and America had fallen asleep, France, Art, America and Artie still in their costumes. Artie was leaning on America's shoulder while Art was asleep in an uncomfortable looking position in the single chair. France was snoring next to Canada, the hat tipped over his eyes comically.

Soon enough, the two North American countries fell asleep as well, the movie going straight to the main menu and to stay there until someone woke up.

XXXX

**Whoops, kinda rushed the last part…heh, I really like the idea of cowboy!England. If there's any mistakes, please excuse them, didn't proof this one and please review, I love to hear what you have to say ;) Peace out my friends :D**


	5. Chapter 5

** Ugh, school just decided to dump a shit load of assignments on me this week and now I'm booked DX Anyone ever read The Great Gatsby? Well I'm having it forced down my throat—am super happy that we're finally done with it. The only down side to that is we now have to do an essay where one paragraph has to be six to eight sentences…Oof, that sucks, just finished the outline that's due tomorrow ;) **

** So other than my ranting that was information that you could probably care less about, enjoy~**

**XXXX**

He was very warm and comfortable when America woke up on the couch he had fallen asleep on yesterday night. Artie had settled himself next to the superpower and seemed to already be awake, complaining about a headache and looking slightly green, still clad in America's old cowboy clothes. "So, how're ya doin' Artie?"

"Why am I in cowboy clothes?" Artie asked, answering the question with a question that had nothing to do with America's. Artie didn't sit up either, his head having hurt him earlier when he tried a few minutes ago. The Brit looked up at America for the first time since he woke up and blushed at what the American was wearing. "Y-you look nice…"

America grinned and tipped the hat atop his head with a gloved hand. "Why thank you," he started before sitting up, forcing the Brit up with him, a whimper of pain escaping his lips, still red since he was rested on America's stomach. "About the cowboy clothes, you got drunk last night and forced us all into a mid-1800's role play kind of thing."

"O-oh I did? Sorry…" Artie apologized, looking down at a button on the fancy Victorian coat the American was wearing. "Where's Art?"

America shrugged his shoulders, looking around the room to find everyone that had been present last night, now absent. "I dunno."

"Good morning you two," Canada greeted as he walked into the living room, Artie turning red once more at being caught laying on America's torso. The shy England got off of America and caught Canada before he could reenter the kitchen area, flinching when his head began pounding.

"Hey, where's Art?" he asked, a sheepish smile on his face.

"He's looking for his clothes, he forgot where you put them once you put him in that cowboy get-up," the Canadian answered. Artie smiled and excused himself from the North American country's presence, going up the staircase around the corner. Canada stood there for a brief moment before turning to grin at America. "France had their clothes," and America began snickering.

Artie searched a majority of the second floor before finally finding his twin in their room, waist down sticking out from under the bed. He smiled and bound over to the bedside and plopped himself on the hardwood floor next to Art. "Hi Art! I don't think our clothes are in this room or under our bed—I put them on top of the bed in a guest room," Artie announced, poking Art in the side with his index finger. Art pushed himself out from under the bed, a sour look on his face, hair covered in dust.

"I already checked there…I'm trying to back track, but all I remember is that it was you who took my clothes," Art grunted, leaning back, his arms now behind him and supporting his upper body. "But I have this suspicion that France has to do with our troubles," he continued, brushing dust off of his sleeves. Artie placed the cowboy hat, which was around Art's neck due to the string, back on top of Art's head with a satisfied look. Art simply knocked it backwards—off of his head. "Don't do that, this hat it ridiculous."

"I don't think it is," Artie tilted his head to the side, adjusting his cowboy hat so that it was in a comfortable position atop his head.

France stood at the doorway, watching the two oblivious Englands before America and Canada came up from the staircase, America questioning his antics. Damn, was his 'I'm thinking perverted thoughts' face showing again? "Oh, I'm just thinking…_nice_ thoughts," he answered with a grin, sending a sly look to the two North American countries.

"Dare I request for you to be a little more specific?" Canada asked, shoving his hands into his pockets as he and America stopped next to France who had stepped away from the doorway into England's room.

"Well—it involves two Englands…" France didn't even have to say anything else to have America telling him to 'zip it'. He then winked at the superpower. "Too bad~" he then turned to peek back into the room. "I'm gonna have them do some stuff—you think they remember they're in their own house?" France then asked. The two remained quiet and France took that as a que to walk into the room. "Oh and don't worry, it's just a bit of kissing, that's all," he then promised before he fully entered the room. "_Bonjour~_"

"Oh hi France," Artie grinned obliviously up at the Frenchman that was currently wielding a perverted grin. Artie tipped his hat up so that he could see France better from his spot on the ground. Art glanced up at France and stood up before seating himself on the bed he was just scavenging under, wordlessly telling France to continue with what he wanted. "We're looking for our clothes," Artie continued, seating himself next to Art.

"Ah, I know where they are _mon amis_," France grinned, rubbing his chin—he continued to hope the two forgot that they were in their own house.

"Cool, could you bring them to us so we can change back?" Artie piped like a child. Clearly he was oblivious to the fact.

"Under one condition."

"Condition?" Art questioned, furrowing his thick eyebrows at the wavy haired Frenchman presented before them. "And what is this condition you want us to meet?" he continued, propping his upper body with his arms which were pressed into the mattress behind him once more.

"You two just have to kiss each other is all."

Canada facepalmed from the doorway when France said that. He was still surprised with how blunt the Frenchman could be with this kind of stuff, though he knew he shouldn't be.

Art went pale before turning bright red, his eyebrows furrowing even more. France was amazed at how the normally apathetic England stayed conscious through that whole migration of blood leaving his face and going back full force. "No," it was stern and rigid.

Artie on the other hand was a totally different case. "Wh-what? W-wait don't we have an alternative choice? I-I mean…" he also turned a dark shade of red and looked like he was going to faint from his body's reaction. "I-I-I—"

"You must unless you want to stay in those for the rest of your time here."

Art huffed and quickly kissed Artie on the cheek, the other turning an even darker shade of red, the blush creeping down his neck and to the tips of his ears. Art glared up at France, his expression irritated and flustered. "No, no," France shook his head, his perverted grin never leaving. "On the lips," he continued, touching an index finger to his lips that were stretching even wider with that grin.

"Y-you could've been a-a little more specific!" Artie whined, edging away from France. He then fell silent and side glanced at Art, wondering if the other was seriously considering going through with this. Art was still glaring heatedly at France before turning to face Artie who blinked multiple times, clearly not knowing what to do.

"Bloody frog will die someday, I guarantee it…" Art grumbled to Artie before leaning forward, catching Artie's lips in his. Since Art had caught America talking about the two of them being clones every now and then, he had originally expected for Artie to taste exactly like himself, thus meaning he wouldn't taste anything since his brain had tuned it out. But he was wrong. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when he tasted something sweet on the other's lips mixed with the faint taste of alcohol and…was that hamburgers? America must've gotten to Artie last night.

On Artie's side, he had only heard of America talking about them being clones once and immediately forgot about it once he had calmed down, so he didn't know what to expect. Art had a sour taste to him, though it wasn't in a repelling way. He could taste the alcohol from last night and apparently Art had thrown up this morning. He also tasted like tea which sounded extremely appealing at the moment.

Art didn't expect for his twin to wrap his arms around his neck and he almost pulled away when the other mustered up some hidden strength that kept Art right where he was.

Off by the doorway, America had one hand over his eyes, though his fingers were parted so he was secretly peeking out to watch, face lightly red. Canada had buried his face in both of his hands, murmuring to himself about how France was such a problem. "Man, Japan would kill for this kind of material," America then brought up, deciding to whip out his mobile and snap two pictures before emailing them to said island country.

"What?"

"Nothing."

When the two separated, they were both beet red and panting for oxygen. France had one finger pressed against one nostril likely to hold back a nosebleed and he grinned at the two. "They're in my suitcase," and he turned, daydreaming to himself as he drug America and Canada with him down the staircase.

The two Englands sat on the bed in their room, having nothing to say and feeling a bit awkward about looking at each other. Artie had begun fidgeting and then started laughing nervously. "What?" Art snapped, glancing at Artie before looking away, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Eh heh…I just remembered that we're in our house Art…" his twin grinned sheepishly at Art. The more serious of the two sat there, a flustered, irritated and surprised look on his face. It was funny, but Artie couldn't bring himself to laugh joyfully like he always did.

"Oh my _FUCKING—_!" he jumped off of the bed and tripped over his own feet, still not used to walking in cowboy boots.

America, Canada and France, who were all currently residing in the kitchen, which was directly below the room the two Englands were in, glanced up at the ceiling questionably when they heard a _thump_ and then a long string of swearing that would make a sailor cry. "I guess he just figured it out," France snickered to himself before going into the fridge, bent on eating all of England's food.

They turned to look at the corner where the staircase was, unable to see it for it was hidden behind a wall, when they heard angry footsteps coming down the stairs, accompanied by a less heavy pair. America expected for Art to come storming into the kitchen and start mauling France 'til the Frenchman was a bloody mess on the floor, but was surprised when the two Englands went out the front door, Artie apologizing to Art about something.

"Whoa wait, where're they going?" America asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, motioning towards the front door that had just been slammed shut violently.

"Art's probably dragging Artie to a pub—someone better supervise them," France waved his hand in a dismissing manner. "I'm not going to, I'm trying to eat everything here," he continued with a grin as he fished out a container of leftover pasta Italy must've made when he came over a few weeks ago.

"I think that's America's job," Canada smiled humorously at his own joke. "Uh, I guess America and I will do that—jeez, drinking right after drinking all of that yesterday night? That's kind of a lot don't you think?" he then continued.

"Nah, don't worry, the British are famous for being able knock back a pint or ten," America grinned. France chuckled, stating that he agreed one hundred percent with the American as he stuffed the container, lidless, into a microwave. "Now c'mon Canadia—"

"Canada…"

"Canadia. Let's go to every pub in London!" he then sprinted off, Canada following almost unenthusiastically, suddenly wondering why he said he'd be going with America. The superpower was a handful.

Art and Artie burst into the pub they had occupied yesterday night, pushing the doors open rather loudly and abruptly. They earned a huge amount of attention, the pub's inhabitants not used to having two look-alikes burst into a pub dressed in a cowboy get-up—especially since this was England, not America. Art glared venomously at those that stared at them, briefly forgetting that he had forgotten to change out of America's old outfit.

"What're you looking at?" his voice was challenging. One customer was brave enough to point at his shirt and Art looked down. He huffed noisily at the sight of the annoying cowboy outfit he was in and stormed over to seat himself in a stool. "This is not my day...Get me the strongest stuff you got!" he demanded, the bartender intimidated into moving faster.

He set the glass in front of Art who chugged it down, Artie seating himself excitedly next to Art, excited because of the concept of getting more alcohol. "I'll have what he's having!" he smiled childishly.

"Uh, are you sure you want to?" he asked. From what he could see, Artie definitely wasn't one that you should give strong alcohol to, but he was requesting it and the bartender wasn't supposed to say no.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Artie grinned, patting his chest before fiddling with the badge on the vest. The bartender reluctantly fetched the drink for Artie. He had seen these two yesterday night and Artie seemed to be a handful. He hoped that tall guy with the glasses would arrive soon and drag the two out once more—Art was scaring him (since he assumed he was Arthur) and Artie, he just didn't want to see him drunk again. The boy seemed like he would be the kind to start stripping and with all of that clothing on him, it must be something entertaining for him. Fortunately, he was wrong slightly on both ends. Art was a quiet drunk and Artie was just a happy drunk that just wanted a good time.

Canada and America, now in his normal T-shirt, jeans and bomber jacket, entered the pub, amused at the sight they were greeted with. The bartender was washing cups as far away from the two Englands as possible, Artie had fallen out of his chair and had gotten himself tied up in the rope that he had added to the costume. Art was currently hunched over, glaring at his empty cup once more.

The two North American countries seated themselves in stools near the two, but not directly next to them. The two Englands didn't see them either, Artie too busy laughing his ass off for whatever reason he had while Art was focused on the melting ice in his cup. Oh, Art just saw them, but didn't acknowledge them.

"Ugh, you, with the leather jacket," the bartender pointed at America. "…Never mind, what do you two want?"

"I'll have a Pepsi," America nodded his head and Canada didn't order anything. He got his soft drink and resumed watching Artie and Art.

"Jeez, Artie's a mess," Canada chuckled and America agreed as he sipped from a straw.

"Get up," Art grunted down at Artie who grinned stupidly back up at Art.

"Ai can't!" he replied overenthusiastically. Art huffed moodily and waved the bartender over, demanding for his glass to be refilled. As the bartender did so, he glared down at Artie who simply smiled back at him.

"Untangle yourself then. How in bloody hell did you get yourself tied up in the first place?"

"Ai dunno," Artie sat up, wiggling one arm out of the rope.

From their spot, America could tell plenty of the occupants of the pub were being entertained by the two twin blonds at the stools with how most of them were grinning and snickering to each other, pointing at Artie who was still sitting on the ground, half tied in the rope.

"I wonder where he got the cowboy outfit—that's American right?"

"Ha, ha, the one on the ground's kind of a dummy."

"The one on the stool looks like he wants to kill the one on the ground, ha, ha."

America leant back in his seat, drinking down the rest of his drink. He watched Art pull the cowboy hat onto his head and tilt it over his eyes so they were in its shadow, clearly not wanting to deal with anyone at the current moment. Artie then finally managed to get out of the rope and seated himself sloppily into the stool next to Art, almost falling back onto the ground as he did so with how uncoordinated he was.

"Aww, dunt worry Art," Artie smiled, poking Art in the arm. "It wasn't so bad—I actually kind of enjoyed it…thuh kiss," Artie continued without turning red from embarrassment, though his cheeks were already red form the alcohol he had ingested for the last half hour. The bartender was surprised Artie hadn't passed out after two and a half pints, though Artie didn't seem like he'd be finishing the third one he had started.

"Quit leaning on me…" Art grunted, shoving Artie off of him. Artie luckily managed to stay on the stool he was seated on.

"It's about time we get them out of here," Canada suggested and America agreed with him. The two look-alikes stood and announced their presence mostly to Artie who jumped in shock before grinning widely at the two.

"Hi Ame—Al!" Artie managed to correct himself in the midst of his inebriation. "Where'd yoo come from? Yer like—magic!" he continued giddily, Art sighing in an irritated way from his seat.

"He's been here all this time you git…"

"Come one Artie, let's go back to your place—don't want to let loose two drunk cowboys on the city of London eh?" America grinned, helping Artie to his feet.

"Wha—? I'm not drunk!" Artie whined, attempting to tug his wrist out of America's grip. Art rubbed his temples as Artie was being drug out of the edifice, muttering about an oncoming migraine before standing up as well and following the American out of the pub, Canada not too far behind.

Instead of going back to England's home like America had suggested though, they ended up back in Hyde Park, Artie laying spread eagle in the grass, obviously still drunk with how slurred his speech was as he talked to himself. America was currently eating some McDonald's he had picked up on the way, Canada sitting next to him silently as Art glared off into the space in front of him.

Artie sat up before leaning over to Art, clinging to the others waist. "Hey~" he started. "I forgot where my house is…" he whined.

"On an island…" Art grumbled sourly to himself, wishing that he had some rum in front of him at the moment. Artie thanked him despite the information being useless.

America sighed and leaned back after stuffing his second Big Mac down his throat. "We should try to keep them from drinking tomorrow, it isn't really good for them," America spoke up, Canada nodding in agreement with his neighbor's suggestion. The two returned their attention to Artie and Art, Artie asking questions he should already know the answer to.

America jumped for his phone when it started playing Kimi Ga Yo, the Japanese national anthem. "Hi Japan! Did'ya get the pictures I sent ya?" he grinned, pressing his cellular to his ear. Canada watched America go from extremely joyful, to a slightly shocked look, his grin falling gradually. He shifted in his spot in the grass, wondering what was bothering America so much. "Okay…" and he hung up.

"What's wrong America?" Canada asked, leaning forward on his knees, folding his arms on them. "What'd Japan say?"

America sighed and set his phone in the grass next to him. "…Japan's scientists are pulling blanks—they don't think it's possible to 'unclone' them…" he motioned to the two Englands, Artie having fallen asleep with half of his torso in Art's lap. He smiled briefly at the sight before becoming solemn once more. "They're considering cutting the project. Canada, what will we do then? I kinda miss the old England…you know," he continued, glancing down at his phone.

Canada blinked a few times, not having anything to say to his neighbor. "It's all my fault too," America continued. "If I wouldn't have gone off with that thing we wouldn't have shot England…"

"…No, it's my fault for wrestling you for the device in the first place. It was natural for you to want to show someone and I just freaked out…So it's basically me fault," Canada placed a hand on his chest, smiling genuinely. America smiled back at Canada and pulled him into a one armed hug.

"Aww, you're the best Canada," Canada mentally cheered, for America pronounced his name correctly. "Thanks bro."

"No problem America," he nodded his head when America let go of him.

America walked into the living room, having finished washing the dishes after dinner since it was his shift that night, meaning he had pulled the short stick. He found France, Art and Canada playing a board game, it looked kind of like Risk, but then again, a few things were different. Also, the picture on the board made him grin—it was the world. France looked up and grinned at America.

"Guess what _mon ami_, I currently rule over North America with an iron fist," he chuckled, motioning to the country printed on the board.

"Yeah so? I have all of Russia and I plan on getting Canada back," Canada swat France's hand away from the board. After a bit of observing, America noted that Art had control over all of Europe except for that portion of Russia that resided in the continent. "And sure you can play, let's restart the game," Canada continued, scooting over to make space.

About an hour later, America slumped over slightly defeated. "Dudes this is totally unfair!" he whined. "I've only got a tiny part of Mexico and the bottom of Texas! Not cool!" he continued. France had France and a bit of northern Spain, Canada had a small portion of China and Art basically ruled the world in a sense.

"Shut up America…" Canada grumbled, clearly irritated that he had so little territory in their game.

"Hey, can I play?" Artie asked, having just woken up from his nap. He was half hung over half inebriated. America nodded his head, scooting over to make room for Artie who seated himself next to the superpower, rubbing his hands together with a grin.

_Another hour later…_

"Ha, ha! I rule half the world!" Artie whooped, America, Canada and France again, left with little territory. Artie had North and South America along with Africa and half of the United Kingdom under his control in the game. Art had all of Asia, most of Europe and the other half of the United Kingdom. America was left with half of Chile, which wasn't much, Canada with Australia and Oceania and France with Spain and Portugal.

"They're too good at this game…" America muttered to Canada who agreed with him, hunched over.

"I'm gonna get Canada back from Artie…" Canada brooded, leaning closer to America as if they were plotting something while France was muttering to himself about getting France from Art. It was clear that they weren't going to accomplish their tasks with how much power the two Englands had. "America, next game let's create an alliance…" Canada muttered to America who nodded.

"Totally—we better beat them that time too…" he then replied. While the two were plotting, Artie and Art were busy taking over the rest of the world, knocking America out of the game quickly. "And those two are clearly fighting over the UK," America pointed out.

"I can see," Canada nodded his head in agreement for the umpteenth time that day.

Later that night, they ended up playing some video games—Art refusing to play for the movement on the screen was making him dizzy since he had just drank four pints of some pretty strong alcohol. France was reluctant to play, but after some double-team begging from Artie and America, the Frenchman picked up a controller and began his epic adventure of sucking at the game they were playing.

Once America kicked France off of the game for 'sucking too much', the Frenchman happily began to pester Art. "So, how was your kiss with Artie?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Don't do that ever again—the eyebrow thing, it's disgusting," Art grumbled, shoving the Frenchman away from him. He was silent after that before speaking up once more, much to France's surprise. "It…wasn't bad."

"Ah, I knew it. No need to be such a stick in the mud _mon ami_, all you need to be is honest and I'll leave you alone," France grinned, tugging Art into a one armed hug who muttered about doubting that France would stay true that remark. "Did Artie say anything?" he then asked.

"He said he enjoyed it, but he was drunk when he said that earlier, so I doubt it was true."

"Nonsense! It isn't called liquid courage for nothing," France laughed, shaking Art a bit before being shoved away once more. "Now how about you kiss me?" he grinned, leaning into Art once more. Art figured that the Frenchman just liked invading his personal space because it irritated him, but he shoved the wavy haired blond away from him none the less. "Come on, let's go upstairs," and Art followed reluctantly.

France led Art up to his room and pulled him closer, their chests pressed together once he had closed the door, not even bothering to lock it despite Art's complaints. He then pressed his lips to Art's who was unresponsive for a moment before deciding to kiss him back. He didn't like all of the attention he was being given today, but went along with it without protesting.

He grunted and pulled away when he felt France grope his bottom. "Don't do that—not tonight," he grumbled, tugging at France's short beard as he said that. France pouted briefly before resuming with ravishing Art.

"Did you know your eyes are a darker green than Arties?" France suddenly brought up and observation America had made not too long ago.

"…No," he answered, not approving of France talking so much. "Now stop talking and let's continued," he grumbled, blushing when France grinned and accused him of being impatient. They continued their make-out session when Francis reached for Art's bottom once more. Art this time shoved France away from him, furrowing his eyebrows at the Frenchman. "I said no France," he bit out.

France rolled his eyes. "Well sorry," he approached Art and tilted his chin up. "Fine, I we won't do it tonight, but you owe me."

"I owe you nothing," Art retorted blandly and France grinned.

"I like your wit," he remarked. It was Art's turn to roll his eyes before France leant down to kiss him once more. Art was about to deepen it when he pulled from France who questioned his actions. Art ignored him and he glared at the door. "Artie, what in bloody hell are you doing?"

Artie opened the door, but since his weight was propped up against it, he literally fell into the room, a sheepish grin on his face. "I was spying on you!" he smiled from his spot on the ground. Art furrowed his eyebrows and France swore that if Art kept that up, he'd have his thick eyebrows stuck in that position for the rest of his life.

"Artie, please stop, you're not a part of the MI6," Art cocked an eyebrow this time at his twin who situated himself into a sitting position, glancing up at the two with his large, bright green eyes and chipper smile.

"But they're an organization of ours," Artie remarked, his voice matter-of-fact.

"Just because we represent a part of a country doesn't mean we're a part of every organization created in it," Art retorted blandly. Reasoning with Artie could be troublesome at times. Artie pouted on the hardwood floor, muttering about Art being a 'kill-joy'.

"Aww, you just killed Artie's fun time," France's voice was borderlining a coo. "Maybe I should _cheer him up_," the rest of his voice highly suggestive. While Artie perked up, agreeing with France, though not catching the suggestiveness of it, Art caught it and he sent France a glare that read 'if you touch him I'll have to set you on fire when you fall asleep tonight'. "Kidding."

"You better be."

"Look Artie~" France then turned to Artie who was still sitting on the floor. "Art's protective of you~" he continued, Artie grinning up at France.

"Yeah, because we're like—super good friends," he flung his arms into the air. "Wait…do friends k-kiss? Because I think that's boyfriends and girlfriends that do that…" Artie continued, a blush tinting his cheeks as he stumbled over the word 'kiss'. France grinned and approached Artie only to have his twin hold him back, a venomous glare being sent his direction.

"See? He's pretty protective of you," France pointed out.

"Shut up, I just know the kind of person you just happen to be," Art grunted moodily. France simply grinned and drawled out the word 'right', his obnoxious grin never leaving his face.

"Hey Art, can you sleep with me tonight? I don't wanna sleep in the guest rooms or on the couch and my head's starting to hurt," Artie asked, smiling at Art who turned red at what his question could've meant, France on the other hand, only grinned further. "What?"

"Uh, sure I could," Art didn't answer Artie's later question. France elbowed Art in the ribs softly, winking at Art who held back the urge to punch France's pretty face into his skull at the moment. "Come on, let's go downstairs first though, I want to know what America and Canada are doing."

They then went back downstairs, finding America and Canada jabbing away at their video game controllers, attempting to dominate the other in the fighting game they were currently playing. "How can you play for this long you two?"

"Dude! It's like, impossible _not_ to play!" America piped happily as he beat Canada at what they were playing once more. "Ha, I owned your face," he then added, though it was directed towards Canada who immediately demanded a rematch, America happily accepting the challenge as the two Englands and France sat on the couch America and Canada were leaning back on.

"Hey, I wanna play too when you're done with this match!" Artie announced, leaning down so that his face was align with America's. America grinned and reached up to pat Artie, ending up patting the side of his head because of their positions before returning to expertly jabbing the different colored buttons with his thumbs.

"Come on Artie, you have to change out of that outfit by the way," Art brought up, standing up and stepping around Canada from behind so he wouldn't block his sight of the television screen. Artie nodded and jumped over the back of the couch, following Art upstairs to change out of his clothes.

The two entered their room and Art found Artie a pair of pastel green pajamas he could sleep in, Artie slipping into them quickly, blushing as he undressed in front of an apathetic looking Art. When he finished, the two went back downstairs to watch the rest of America and Canada's almost obsessive button mashing.

By the time midnight rolled around, France, Art and Artie had fallen asleep on the couch. America and Canada played early into the morning before finally deciding to go to sleep themselves as well. America lay awake a bit longer than he liked, thinking over the probability of being unable to solve the problem he and Canada had created, though he didn't want to call it Canada's problem as well. It just didn't sound right.

Staring up at the ceiling, he then looked over at the three asleep on the couch, Canada having fallen asleep on one of the chairs and he himself sitting in the one opposite of the one Canada was in. The television was currently on, but with them being in England, nothing good was on—in America's opinion. With a sigh, he left it on and settled into a comfortable position in the couch and craned his neck to the side so he could watch the screen, legs hanging over the edge lazily, television remote in his hand.

He then looked over at the two Englands, Art sleeping silently and Artie sprawled across him and France, snoring lightly, his slim belly slightly exposed because of his position. He smiled at the sight. If he wouldn't get normal England back—then he might as well get used to these two. Besides, they were a bit more fun than regular England.

XXXX

**Hope this chapter's long enough? :) Yeah, how do you like my new line breaks (-) :D I know it isn't much to fuss about, but I got kinda irritated with using the X's since they just…stick out. So yeah, I don't really have much to say, please review, I love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

** Fwah, finally figured out how I should end this :D This story isn't going to be as extensive as my other two Hetalia ones…I'll probably wrap this up in a few chapters ;) So enjoy~**

**XXXX**

America rested his chin in the palm of his hand, watching in awe as the two Englands cooked without burning the house to the ground. Okay that was an exaggeration, but America was still impressed that the kitchen didn't reek. That still didn't mean the food would taste good, but he really hoped it wasn't horrible, he was happy to still have his sense of smell. He's never say that aloud, for Art would probably rip his head off and brand it with a hot iron rod and Artie would start crying. That didn't sound fun at all.

But other than that, his current situation was nothing of great importance. He was dying of boredom that was all he could conclude. France had knocked a quick one with Art in the shower earlier that morning and Artie had asked America why he was hearing their voices in the bathroom. That was an awkward moment.

Lifting his head from the palm of his hand, America shifted his weight in his seat. "Hey Artie, wanna come to my place? It's kinda boring here…no offense," America brought up. Going to the states sounded nice enough and would hopefully kill his boredom. Well, that six hour flight stood in his way, but he could entertain himself somehow hopefully.

Artie perked up at the idea and smiled brightly. "Yeah! That sound fun, hey Art, wanna come to America? It'll be fun!" Artie grinned, tugging at Art's sleeve, the twin staring blankly at the pan in front of him. "Art~"

"…Fine," Art caved in, visibly not wanting to deal with his look-alike. The two Englands started talking about nothing in particular, Artie doing most of the chatting, when France and Canada walked in.

"Hey France, Canada, we're gonna go to America!" Artie announced enthusiastically, waving the spatula he was holding in the air excitedly. Art pulled his arm back down to his side, telling the childish half not to do that.

"What? I don't exactly want to go to America's grease trap," France complained as he seated himself across from America who pouted at the complaint.

"That stings man…" he muttered, rubbing his upper arm. "I _do_ have some nice places ya know…" he continued.

"I have to agree with America," Canada nodded his head, the one curl bouncing lightly with the motion. "Especially the northern states are nice—I really like the beaches too," he continued as he seated himself to America who grinned and thanked his neighbor, clapping Canada on the shoulder happily.

"Don't encourage it," France muttered, resting his elbows on the tabletop. "So—the two Englands are cooking and we're not dead yet? I'm surprised," France cocked an eyebrow and America noted the death glare Art sent him while Artie looked like he had just been denied the trip to America.

"Wha—what?" Artie asked, peeking over France's shoulder. "What do you mean by…not dead yet?" he continued, poking France's shoulder.

"Nah, don't worry about him," America waved France off as he got up and slung an arm around Artie who adopted a shy blush. America was surprised the shyer of the two Englands hadn't gotten used to regular physical contact yet. "France's just joking—right France?" he then grinned demonically down at said country who chuckled nervously and agreed with America whilst wondering how the superpower had managed to copy Russia's signature expression.

Artie on the other hand, was completely oblivious to the nightmare inducing expression America had sent to France. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure," he smiled down at Artie, his expression going from rather Russia like to a gentle one like you'd use with a child. France let out a breath of relief as well as Canada who didn't know he had been holding his breath.

"That was scary…" Canada muttered and France nodded his head in agreement.

"So where're we going?" Artie asked as America seated himself back in the chair he had claimed at the dinner table.

"How 'bout Florida? Nice beaches there—can get a load of su—France why the hell are you laughing?" America snapped his attention to the French country across the table from him. France simply waved his hand in the air as if shooing away a fly, but continued to snicker to himself. "Hmph, whatever."

Art had completely ignored everything that was going on behind him. Artie had apparently ditched his jobs and Art had decided to take them up, now having to prepare twice as much food as he had originally started with. He thought over Artie's question though. "I'd like to see New York I guess," he spoke up.

"…You mean New Yorkshire right?" Artie asked, peeking over his shoulder to watch Art cook. As America whipped out his pocket notebook, Art shook his head in a 'no' gesture.

"No, it's called New York," he corrected, shrugging Artie off of his shoulder only to have his twin return to his side, spatula in hand.

"Really? I always thought that it was called New Yorkshire…"

"That's what we intended it to be way back then…" Art answered.

"What do you mean we?" and everything seemed to go quiet. One of the most touchy topics in between America and England and Artie had forgotten about it. "America named that city himself didn't he?" he continued.

"Uh…" America started, itching at the back of his head before adjusting his glasses, glancing up at the ceiling awkwardly. "Not really…it _was_ you who named it, sorta…" he continued. Art just stared at him expectantly. Did he seriously want America to tell this to Artie? America thought that Artie deserved to have this kept from him, but then again, he should know about it if Japan wasn't able to figure out a solution to all of this. "Come Artie, I gotta talk to you about something."

"Okay…" Artie followed, confusion written all over his face as he glanced over his shoulder to look at the remaining occupants in the kitchen room. "What is it about America?" he asked as he seated himself in the couch next to the superpower in the living room.

America was silent for a brief moment before looking directly into Artie's eyes. "Have you heard about the Revolutionary War?"

"No."

America was genuinely shocked at the answer. This was the first big things Artie had forgotten about. Everything before this was small such as a kilt and ultraviolet rays. He didn't expect for Artie to forget about something like this, but then again, giving his attitude, it shouldn't have been such a big surprise.

"Well we…I kinda wanted…man how should I start?" he rubbed his forehead. "Okay, let's start way back," he restarted, making a sweeping hand motion when he said that. Artie simply nodded and was visibly listening intently which made America hesitate with continuing. "So you found me when I was little okay?"

"…I did?"

America sighed. "Yes you did, took care of me for like," he tapped his chin in thought. "Two hundred years?"

"That's a lot," Artie remarked.

"Yeah," America nodded his head. "It is. Now, so you took care of me for a long time and eventually I wanted independence—wanted to become my own country right?"

"Yep."

"You wouldn't let me and I kinda had to revolt. France helped. And…"

"Wait, wait, w-we fought?" Artie stopped America. "I-I mean, what does revolt mean?"

"Fight back. It means to fight back."

"Why?" America remained silent for that moment, staring down into his hands which were clasped together in his lap. He had broken away because he wanted England to see him as an equal, not a brother. He didn't want to be a brother to England—he wanted to be closer. But America didn't know that back then—it was an unconscious decision he had made that took him until the Second World War to figure out.

"I wanted for you—well, the normal you, to see me as an equal instead of a brother because well…it's kinda wrong for two brothers to love each other right? That's incest," America shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair with a stressed sigh.

"The…normal me? What does that mean?"

"You're a clone…both you and Art—you two are like, the normal England split in two. I'm assuming you're the half that we would've never seen," he chuckled humorlessly. He then glanced up at Artie who was staring down into his lap.

"So I'm not real."

"No, no! That's not what that means!" America frantically yelped, clasping both of Artie's hands in his own, the other failing to blush like he always did.

"What happened next?"

America knew this wasn't a good idea. "…I broke off. I won. Engl—you just let me go. But you were heartbroken."

Artie seemed like he was getting flashbacks. But America could never tell. Hesitantly, he pulls Artie into a hug and began rubbing slow circles on the others back. Artie blankly stared off into the space in front of him, bright green eyes now a dull pastel green. America noticed that and wondered if an extreme emotion made the shade of his eye color change. It was pretty farfetched, but then again, so was England's practice of this so called 'magic'.

"So you left England…and I'm not real."

"No Artie, don't think that way…" America reassured, hugging Artie tighter. "I can physically touch you and interact with you—you're as real as I am," he continued.

"…Hey America?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you not leave me again then?" a brief pause after America nodded his head. "…And can we go to America today?" America smiled at the change in subject.

"Yeah, let's go ask Canada, France and Art where they want to go," America helped Artie to his feet and admired the fact that Artie hadn't cried—he looked a little shell-shocked though. Once they were both standing, they reentered the kitchen and Canada sent them a concerned look.

"How'd it go?"

"Uh…not the best," America shrugged his shoulders and seated himself back at the table while Artie returned to cooking with Art who uncharacteristically pulled the other into a one armed hug, pressing the side of his head into the side of Artie's, his twin nuzzling him slightly in response. America almost 'awwed' at the exchange, but remained silent. "So Canada, where do you wanna go when we go to my awesome states?"

"Seattle. I really like that place," Canada answered almost instantly.

"Las Vegas," France spoke up and America rolled his eyes. Leave if to France to want to go to a place like that. America forgot why he had wanted to make a place like that in the first place, but every now and then he'd find himself in that specific city every now and then.

"Hey, I wanna go to Orlando," Artie announced, no hint of what had happened not too long ago evident in his expression or voice. It was as if it had never happened and that slightly bothered America.

"Now why is that _Angleterre_ _timide_?" France grinned, leaning over the back of his chair, tipping the object onto its back legs.

"Well isn't that where Disney World is?" Artie asked, painfully oblivious to Francis's suggestive look. America rolled his eyes and decided to ignore the Frenchman, turning to Artie with a smile on his face.

"You've got that right," he then nodded his head. "Disney World's in Orlando Florida—we could go to some beaches too," he continued, Artie agreeing enthusiastically with a nod of his head.

The two Englands finally finished making dinner and served it to their guests. Everyone excluding the two Englands hesitantly stared down at their normal appearing meal before actually eating it. Surprisingly, none of them chocked on it and it didn't taste so bad.

"Wow, it actually isn't that bad," America remarked and France and Canada had to agree with the American. Artie and Art just stared at them, not exactly understanding why they were making such a big deal about it, but didn't say anything and continued eating.

"The world must be ending…" France muttered after he swallowed his food.

"Hey guys, are you coming with Artie and I to America tonight or are ya going to book a hotel a few days after we get there? Like—Artie and I will first start with New York City. We'll be in my apartment and you guys will book a room a few day ahead so you don't have to go right away," America explained.

"That actually sounds like a good idea," Canada agreed with a nod of his head.

"Cool, Artie and I will be going tonight, so I should go help him pack up," America announced, suddenly standing up and dragging Artie off with him enthusiastically. Artie looked over his shoulder and waved at the three with a smile before the two disappeared up the staircase.

"Hey America! Will there be lots of skyscrapers in New Yorkshire city?" he asked happily.

"It's just New _York_ Artie," America chuckled as the two entered Englands room. Artie simply nodded his head as he seated himself in the middle of the room as America pulled out a suitcase. "What should we pack other than toiletries and clothes?" America then asked mostly to himself. "Sun block definitely, swimming trunks—hey Artie you don't have any swimming gear!" America announced.

"I don't think I ever have," Artie answered, tilting his head to the side.

With a shrug of his shoulders, America returned to searching the closets. "We'll have to buy you some then. I'll buy ya some sunglasses too, ha, ha, the mental image of that is actually kinda cute…" America began rambling to himself as he sorted through the closet, Artie joining him not too long after.

America stretched in his seat and glanced out the large window, Artie doing the same thing, watching the planes come and go. The two were without France, Canada and Art.

"Hey America, have you ever flown a plane and is it fun?" Artie asked, pressing his face against the large window. He wasn't sitting in a seat, but had seated himself next to the window to watch the large aircraft with great interest.

"Yeah, I've flown before," America smiled, folding his arms and closing his eyes, it was almost dinner time. "And yeah, it's pretty cool," he continued, then turning to look over at Artie who was still staring out the window, nose pressed against the glass.

"Aww, you're lucky," Artie's voice was a whine and he turned to pout at America. America simply grinned at Artie. After a bit of silence, Artie spoke up once more, his voice still a childish, high-pitched whine. "I'm bored."

America rolled his eyes and lifted the backpack that would be his carry-on. He then extracted a handheld video game, he then handed it over to Artie. "Play away," he grinned and Artie happily took the device and began playing.

About ten minutes passed before people began boarding the plane that would bring them to New York City. America told Artie to turn the device off and he stuffed it back into his bag, chuckling at how childishly Artie pouted up at America, arms crossed and bright green eyes flashing childish irritation.

Luckily, their seats were right next to each other and America loaned Artie his, it being the one with the window. Artie had a thing for sitting by the window—he had told America that he loved looking out windows. The way Artie had said it too made America laugh out loud and ended up having to apologize to Artie for laughing at him.

"Do you have a good view?" Artie asked, confusion America.

"What do you mean?"

"From your apartment? Do you have a good view of the city?" Artie restated with a smile on his face.

America smiled back at the sandy blond. "Yep, it's pretty awesome," he answered and Artie grinned at him. The plane took off not too long after, America having helped Artie buckle in for the other forgot how to use that specific type of buckle. He had written that down in his pocket notebook after doing so. "So, we've got four days all to ourselves, what's the first thing you want to do?"

"Look at the skyscrapers!" and America laughed at the answer, confusing Artie. "What?"

"I mean like, shopping? Go to the ice rink? Stuff like that. You can look at the skyscrapers from my apartment," he chuckled, ruffling the others hair. Artie lightly swatted America's hand away, a blush surfacing, though he was still smiling at the attention he was receiving.

"Hey, can we go see those two big skyscrapers?" Artie asked and America's grin dropped immediately. Artie forgot about another touchy topic.

"Artie…they were destroyed, don't you know about that?"

"What?" Artie asked, innocently tilting his head to the side. "I-I didn't know that," he continued almost frantically, frightened by the expression America had adopted. "What happened? Or…I'm sorry for not remembering!" he then abruptly apologized, bowing his head, ending up bumping it against the seat in front of him. "I just—am I forgetting things? Because you keep telling me things I've never heard of…"

"Don't worry about it. Japan says another side effect could possibly be memory lapses," America muttered to himself more than to Artie who's mood darkened at his words. Artie slumped in his seat and America had to pull him into a one armed hug in an attempt to cheer him up. "Let's just not think about it okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Artie answered. "So…can we go see whatever's there? Or is there nothing there?" he continued shyly, glancing up at America.

"Well, we just finished the memorial…"

"How long will it take to get there?" Artie changed the subject out of nowhere and again, America was thankful for Artie's not so one track mindedness. He pulled out his pocket notebook once more and wrote in it, Artie still not understanding why America carried it around with him.

"I'll take about six, seven hours," America answered as he tucked the pocketbook back into his bag.

They sat in wordless silence before Artie turned to America to speak once more. "I'm bored," he whined. America sighed and slouched in his seat.

"I'm sorry Artie, but I can't let you play games yet until we reach a specific height," America sighed. "They'll tell us when we can," he continued, Artie pouting next to him. "Just be patient," he then told the Brit before leaning over and kissing the other on the cheek, grinning at the blush that spread across his face.

"Wh-why'd you do that? "Artie asked, touching his cheek with his hand.

"'Cause I like you Artie, can't you tell?" America smiled, snaking an arm around Artie's shoulders and pulling him closer. The other blushed when he was pulled closer and he rested his head in the crook of America's neck, jaw pressed against the American's collarbone.

"We-we're in public America…" his face was bright red and his voice had dropped significantly in volume.

"Oh hush," he lightly pressed an index finger against Artie's lips before removing it to kiss him on the lips. "You're ruining the fun," he continued when he pulled away, Artie turning a darker shade of red.

"I-I-I don't think we should be doing this on a plane of all places…" Artie continued, biting his lip when the other began massaging the back of his head. "America…" his voice was a quiet protest. Artie wasn't the best at pulling away America noted, for despite showing clear signs of not wanting to show affection here, his body was saying anything but.

With a chuckle, he kissed Artie on the lips once more. "Fine, I'll save it for my place."

Canada, France and Art were currently occupying the living room to Englands home. "So when did we agree on going?"

"Four days from now," Art answered after sipping his tea. "So we have plenty of time," he continued. Canada nodded his head and lay down on the couch he was seated on.

"Are we going to have dinner or do we have to go out for that?" he then asked, staring up at the ceiling in a bored fashion. Maybe he should've gone with America and Artie but then again, maybe they should have their own privacy. America seemed to want some alone time with Artie before the two dashed out the abode and into a taxi.

"Aha, did you see the way America looked at _Angleterre timide_? I think he's gonna get him tonight," France grinned, rubbing the hairs on his chin. Canada rolled his eyes, but wordlessly agreed with the Frenchman.

"If you're trying to knock another round with me, no thank you," Art calmly replied to France's observation, casually finishing his cup of tea. Canada noted the mischievous glint in France's eyes and had to whack the country upside the head, not wanting the other to be doing these kinds of things while he was present.

"I'm still hereFrance," Canada muttered once France recovered, rubbing at the back of his head. "So please keep that to yourself."

"Ah~" France grinned, leaning closer to Canada. "Is my dear Canada jealous?"

"…What if I am?" he questioned, sulking to himself. France grinned and pulled Canada closer to himself in a one armed hug, shaking him back and forth briefly as he chuckled.

"Then maybe I should accompany you tonight then instead of _Angleterre apathique_?" France grinned, pressing the side of his face against Canada's who blushed lightly and pulled away.

"Don't put it that way," Canada huffed, sitting up correctly. France simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't worry, tonight will be great."

"Shut it."

By the time they landed in New York City, Artie had fallen asleep about two hours ago and was still out cold. America had to shake him awake, the sound and movement of the plane on the runway not enough to wake the other.

The two had grabbed their carry on and got off of the plane when they were allowed to. They went to baggage claim, Artie still half asleep and grabbed their stuff, before going outside to hail a taxi to America's apartment.

By the time they got to America's apartment, Artie was wide awake and asking for alcohol. America had hesitated, but Artie's puppy-dog eyes likely rivaled his when he was younger. You couldn't blame him, those large green eyes that almost seemed to sparkle and…Artie was just a master at it.

So he ended up buying Artie some alcohol and they drank well into the night since they were now six hours in the past. Sort of. On their plane ride, he had told Artie how traveling to the left on a map was kind of like time traveling.

"Okay, I think you've had enough," America chuckled, prying the bottle of beer out of Artie's hand. Artie huffed and reached for the bottle, though he ended up falling onto America in a drunken stupor. Artie then began demanding for America to give to bottle back. Well, America couldn't call it demanding since his voice was still that childish whine Artie seemed so fond of.

"C'mon 'Merica, ai want my n'stuff back," Artie whined, latching onto America's arm. "Please?"

"No way Artie, you're smashed," America snickered, ruffling Artie's hair. Artie hummed and began nuzzling America's arm, complaining about America being unfair, though the other half of his complaint was incoherent.

"Hey 'Merica?"

"America, you're forgetting the 'a' in my name," America chuckled, tilting Artie's chin up so the drunk Brit was staring up at him.

"America, can you kiss me like on thuh plane? 'N' you said you'd finish somethin' but ai can't remember what…" Artie muttered, smiling up at America. America pondered over whether he should go through with what he said earlier either. Now Artie was drunk and that'd be taking advantage of him wouldn't it?

…But with the way he was looking up at him with half lidded, drunk eyes, likely just asking for it, America couldn't resist. So he leant down and captured Artie's lips in his own, the taste of alcohol strong on his lips.

France would probably do his 'I told you so' dance if he ever figured out about what America and Artie did that night.

XXXX

**Lol, I am uber unimpressed with how I'm typing this story along. It's just like…blah. Lol, feel so dumb right now and yes, I just did use the word uber ;) I wanted to say something else not too long ago too, but I forgot what it was so blah. Blah, I've been using that quite a bit lately ;) Please review, haven't heard from any of you lately and can't exactly function off of a little amount of opinion. Peace out my friends ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

** I hate the new design for the American flag when we get a fifty first state…For some reason I just don't. Lol, oh well, can't change that and it'd be good for the economy to get a new flag and force everyone to update since there'll be a flag boom :D I think I'll finish this story up this chapter. So enjoy the last chapter :)**

**XXXX**

America smiled and crossed his arms in a content manner, having just finished making breakfast. It took longer than he had originally thought since he normally made his guest make all of the meals—which was totally rude. Today he had decided to make an exception and had whipped up a few pancakes Canada style along with a plate full of bacon that he'd obviously pig out on along with eggs—and lots of 'em.

He turned around and left the small kitchenette and entered his room, Artie still koncked out from last nights 'activities'. America chuckled when he heard a soft snore come from the Brit and approached the bed. First he headed over to the nightstand and picked up his phone to see if he had any new messages. He grinned when he saw that Art had texted him and was almost surprised that the stoic of the two Englands could text. He then proceeded with opening the message and reading it.

**[England number two]**

**If you smash Artie against his will, I'll have to set you on fire, run you over with a tractor, throw you in a lake and make sure you get eaten by mutated fish and then I will launch whatever the hell's left of you into outer space.**

America snickered at Art's concern and texted a reply before snapping his cellular shut. Art was violent and rather creative with his threats—America would have to hear more.

He returned his attention to the task at hand and stuffed his phone into the pocket of the sweatpants he was wearing. He placed a hand on Artie's shoulder and lightly shook him awake, grinning down into those large green eyes. "M'wha…?"

"Ey, morning Artie!" America grinned charmingly down at his guest, adding his infamous Boston accent. Artie turned red and muttered the greeting back, pulling the blanket further over himself before quietly requesting his clothes. America retrieved a new pair of clothes for Artie and tossed them over to said Brit who barely caught them. America left the room to give Artie privacy since the other had requested it, though he saw no reason in Artie's request.

He greeted the other with a kiss when Artie emerged, effectively making the other turn bright red before separating and walking Artie into the kitchenette. "I made breakfast," he grinned, dropping the accent and gesturing proudly at the meal he had made.

Artie tilted his head to the side as if he were confused, though smiled none the less. "Thanks," he then said and the two headed over to the table and began eating.

"So…wha'ddya wanna do today?" America then asked as he stuffed three strips of bacon into his mouth, barely chewing the meat. He then swallowed it. "I obviously know all of the good places around here and can suggest a few things if you want me to," he continued, stabbing his fork into two pancakes and eating them whole.

"Aren't you going to choke on those if you eat them like that? Art said pancakes and cupcakes are easy to choke on…" Artie worried, leaning over the table slightly. America started saying something, but his words were lost in the midst of the amount of food in his mouth. Artie blinked and tilted his head once more.

America then swallowed all of the food at once and took a long swig of orange juice to push the food down. "Ah, don't worry Artie, I've already mastered the technique," he grinned toothily at Artie. "Art's pretty violent too," he continued with a snicker.

"Why?" America pulled his phone out and handed it over to Artie, bringing up the text beforehand. "If you smash Artie against his will, I'll have to set you on fire, run you over with a tractor, throw you in a lake and make sure you get eaten by mutated fish and then launch whatever the hell's left of you into outer space…" Artie then read out loud. "…America?"

"Yes?"

"What does Art mean by 'smash'?" Artie then asked.

"To have sex," America answered bluntly and Artie turned red.

"Uh…i-it wasn't against my will last night, so hopefully Art doesn't set you on fire…" Artie then stuttered, twiddling his thumbs under the table. "Was Art being serious?"

"Nah, I think he's just trying to intimidate me," America shook his head, waving it off as if he were shooing a fly away from his head. "So…again, wha'ddya wanna do today?" he then asked before stuffing more pancakes into his mouth. Artie grinned and jumped out of his seat, heading for the outdoor balcony, swinging the large glass door open to get there.

"I wanna see the big buildings!" Artie announced, hanging over the railing slightly whilst looking up. America smiled and followed Artie outside, placing a hand on the others shoulder once me made it to Artie's side.

"You could be a bit more specific," Alfred chuckled. He watched as Artie's gaze fell to the pavement twelve stories below them.

"We're high up," Artie pointed out. "And it makes me dizzy!" he continued with a grin, rubbing his eyes as if doing that would make the vertigo go away. America chuckled once more and pulled Artie into a one armed hug, nuzzling his nose into Artie's overly messy hair as he did so.

"You like pointing out the obvious don't you?" he then stated, Artie turning a light shade of pink as America continued to nuzzle his nose into his hair before leaning into the embrace.

Artie then glanced up at America without tilting his head back too much. "Can we go see that one building?"

"Be a little more specific Artie."

"The-the one that's where those two that were like…next to each other use to be…" despite the horrible details Artie gave, America knew exactly what Artie was talking about. "Can you take me there? I don't know where that is…"

"Sure."

America watched Artie glance down into the large fountain, body leaning over the stone names were etched onto. "It's pretty," Artie stated with a soft smile, tracing a letter under his index finger. Artie was clearly fascinated with the memorial and America was glad he was. He remained silent as Artie watched the water cascade down to the bottom of the fountain and America could just imagine a yellow dog tail wagging happily. If Artie had a dog tail it'd be wagging almost consistently. "You said the buildings got knocked over…"

"Yeah, these fountains are where they used to be," America smiled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Did it hurt?" Artie then asked and America shocked at the question that seemingly came out of nowhere. He then glanced down at the pavement he was standing on and thought back to that day with a thoughtful hum. He then glanced back up at Artie who was looking curiously at him. "Sorry if it's personal…"

"Nah, it's fine," America shook his head. "Hm. Yeah, it did with the Pentagon and all, but then again, who am I to say that? You've been through worse with Germany attacking you and all during World War Two…err, sorry if that was a personal thing," America found himself apologizing for something personal when he saw Artie visibly flinch when he mentioned the Blitz.

"Y-yeah…" Artie began twiddling his thumbs once more. "I-I don't remember seeing Art during it though…" Artie then added, gazing into the constant artificial waterfall. America's eyebrows rose in wonder when Artie said that. He'd have to ask Art about that, and with that, America whipped out his phone and quickly texted Art his question before returning his full attention to Artie.

**[America]**

**Do you remember the Blitz?**

**[England number two]**

**What the hell are you talking about?**

Hm. Interesting, he'd have to send a note to Japan about his semi-findings.

He and Artie remained at the memorial for a long period of time, simply listening to the water in a wordless silence. Artie seemed to have a thing for tracing engraved letters with how many names he had already traced a finger over. "I'm hungry."

America smiled at Artie's not-so one track mindedness and nodded his head. "Sure thing, I know an awesome place that isn't McDonald's," he took Artie's hand and walked him to their new destination, Artie turning red at the action and an even darker shade when they attracted attention.

The two stepped into an Asian restaurant and America let go of Artie's hand much to the other's disappointment. They were then seated and headed over to the buffet, America piling his plate high with whatever he could get his hands on while Artie seemed restricted to rice, noodles and a little bit of meat.

When they sat back down, the two immediately began eating and America snickered to himself as he watched Artie basically shovel the rice into his mouth much like America would do. The other seemed oblivious also until he noticed that America was staring at him, covering his mouth. "Fwat?"

"I originally thought you were a dainty eater," America grinned, poking Artie's cheek with his chopsticks. Artie huffed and swallowed before sticking his tongue out at the American and resuming to eating his lunch. Maybe Artie had gotten comfortable around America now that they had been hanging out for a while since when he first cloned England, Artie almost acted towards America as if he were a stranger that he vaguely knew.

America simply grinned at Artie once more and ruffled his hair, having his hand swat away by Artie, though the other was smiling none the less as he did so. "Why do you do that so much?"

"'Cause I like you~!" America laughed, pulling Artie into a one armed hug once more, rocking the other back and forth as Artie turned a light shade of pink once more. America then went further and kissed Artie on the forehead, enjoying the full blown blush that exploded on the other's face.

"W-we're in public…!" Artie whimpered as America went lower and kissed Artie on the lips, nibbling on Artie's bottom lip lightly, wordlessly asking for entrance. His partner unfortunately pulled away, albeit with great difficulty since his mind seemed to be torn in between pulling away and giving in. "America…" he whimpered, voice quiet. "Can we continue when we get back to your place? We've got…spectators," Artie motioned his chopsticks secretly to a group of teenage girls who were giggling to each other, a phone held up as if they were taking a photo or a video, which was probably what they were doing.

"Fine, fine," America ruffled Artie's hair once more and straightened himself back out, returning to eating his meal. Artie smiled and thanked America before returning to his meal as well.

"I'm coming!" America called as he threw on a shirt, having woken up to someone banging on his door loudly. Opening the door, America had to side step as France came strolling in, clearly uninvited whilst greeting America slyly. "What the hell man? You weren't invited inside!" America furrowed his eyebrows before letting Canada and Art inside as well.

"Well you would've let us in anyways, so what's the point in waiting?"

"It's being polite."

"Last time I checked you aren't very polite to your guests," France ticked a finger back and forth as if scolding America who folded his arms and stuck his nose in the air, refusing to back down. The two soon dropped the argument when Artie ran in and basically tackled Art, the two landing on the floor, Canada having to jump back to avoid being knocked over.

"Yaay~! Art's here! I missed youuu~!" Artie basically squealed, hugging Art tightly and nuzzling into the other's arm.

"Get off of me!" Art grunted, attempting to wiggle out of his twin's tight embrace.

As Art had to deal with the leech that was dubbed Artie, France grinned at America. "So, did you have any fun in you free time with _Angleterre timide?_" he asked, a sly look slipping onto his face. America rolled his eyes and shoved France, who was leaning on him, off of his side.

"Sure, I guess we did go out for lunch a few times, now quit leaning on me," he grunted and Canada rolled his eyes at the Frenchman that had obviously never heard of personal space.

The five sat in the small living room, Art sitting on the small love seat, Artie next to him basically cuddling with his right arm. America and Canada sat in the second love seat and France ended up sitting on the floor. "So America, what did you and Artie do?" Canada then asked, his voice having no perverted trace that France was known for.

"Went out for lunch a few times, visited the nine eleven memorial—Artie likes it, and played lots of video games."

"Oh, you actually took him there?" Canada asked, a bit surprised and America nodded his head in response.

"Are you sure you didn't do anything else?" France asked from his spot on the carpeted floor.

"Shut it Frenchie," America bit, an irritated grin stretching at his lips.

"Did you get Art's threat text?" Canada then asked, smiling humorously, America figuring that the two had probably done or said something to make Art worry and send that.

"Yep I sure did, why?"

"Oh, France just went on and on about how you'd rape 'poor defenseless Artie' and how rough you were and I'm not sure how he got that through Art's head but he did. Oh, and he also tried to get into Art's pants too—said he'd make sure he and Art were doing the same thing as you and Artie," Canada explained. "Poor guy was paranoid for Artie."

"Ha, ha, I could tell with the text. Art's violent and pretty creative with his threats by the way—I should ask him for more just to see what else he can come up with," America chuckled, glancing over at the two Englands on the couch, Artie cuddling with Art's arm and he soon found the image humorous. Art had just managed to pull his arm out of Artie's death grip only to have the other latch back onto said body part, Art letting out an aggravated sigh. "Sometimes you can't really tell that Art cares for Artie," America then continued.

"I know right? The two are polar opposites and Art sometimes acts like he even hates Artie," Canada shook his head, smiling to himself. "Not really sure how that works, but okay."

"Agreed."

"When the hell did you get so clingy?" Art questioned as he tugged his arm weakly in an attempt to get it out of Artie's hold. The other simply grinned at his twin happily and hugged his arm tighter.

"Because I like you~!" he stated and Art sent a helpless glance at the other three who unfortunately for him, didn't appear intent on assisting him.

"You're such a…I don't even know," Art grunted, though he hugged Artie's head closer to him, earning a huge, happy smile, though he couldn't see it.

"So, how much longer are we staying here and where are we going next?" Canada then asked, turning to look at America.

America grinned. "What, you wanna leave already? Ha, ha, just kidding, I think we should leave in three days and go to Orlando next since it's in the east already and the two places you and France want to go to are in the west," he then answered.

"Hey, hey Art," Artie grinned, poking his twin in the ribs, earning a slightly irritated grunt from the other. "America showed me that really big building! Uh…the one with the big fountains!" he then announced, though his voice was slightly hushed. Art nodded his head, urging the other to continue. "I wanna take you to see the building! It's really big and cool and the fountains are pretty…"

"Sure, I guess we can do that," Art sighed. "Hey America," he then lifted his head from Artie's to speak with the American on the other side of the room. America hummed in recognition. "Artie wants to take me to that nine eleven memorial you took him to," Art announced.

"See Art? Isn't it pretty?" Artie asked, leaning over the carved stone surrounding the fountain. "America told me that they had a bit of difficulty making these and that these are where the buildings used to be," Artie continued. Art nodded his head, reading a few names that had been engraved, the letters in bronze to finish it off.

"It's actually called a reflecting pool…" Art pointed out as he read a few more names.

"Okay!" Artie smiled at Art and reached out to dip his fingers in the water, just barely long enough to do so. "I like this place—it's pretty," he then continued, pulling his arm back to his side as he approached Art who was reading the bronze text.

"Yeah, you tend to point those kind of things out," Art smiled at Artie.

America watched the two from a distance, hands stuffed into his pockets. Art and Artie were currently looking at the north tower's reflection pool while France and Canada were inspecting the south one. He pulled his phone out when it began buzzing before playing _Kimi Ga Yo_.

"Hey Japan."

"Ah, nice to hear from you America. We've…kind of concluded that we can't finish the project since it isn't safe," the island nation answered, sounding a bit hesitant with his announcement. "I advise that we just get used to these two…"

"Nah, I'm totally fine with that—these two are a healthy dose of England," America chuckled, though he was still disappointed that Japan was cutting the project.

"…Okay…you sound troubled, what's up?"

"Ah, we're just at the nine eleven memorial," America itched at the back of his head. "Not the best trip down memory lane, but you get what I mean…" he continued.

"_Hai_, I fully understand what you are talking about," Japan answered, likely having nodded his head as he said that. "Well, I'll be seeing you next meeting I'm assuming?"

"Yep, I'll see ya there—make sure you give me the newest games too!" America grinned at the idea of more video games. Japan made hummed and hung up with a goodbye, America doing the same. With a sigh, America shut his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. He glanced back up to see Art approaching him and he nodded his head coolly at said Brit. Looks like they'd have to live for the rest of their lives with two Englands unless Japan brought the project back up when they had even better technology in the future. Yeah, he did miss regular England.

Artie then ran up from behind and jumped onto Art's back, childishly requesting a piggy-back. Art's knees almost gave out with the weight that was added abruptly to his back, and he grunted in severe irritation, fulfilling Artie's request none the less with a small smile, Artie hugging him tightly from behind.

Yeah, America was totally cool with these two.

XXXX

**I'm like, super unimpressed with how this all turned out O_O This is it—yeppers, I'm not gonna do any more. Mwahahaha…Man, I'm so unimpressed TT^TT Oh well, beggars can't be choosers ;) Please review and peace out my friends, it's been nice knowing you.**


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